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PETER MAKES GOOD 

AND STORIES OF OTHER DOGS 

hy 

GERTRUDE THOMAS 


With 

Twenty Full-Page Illustrations 

DOROTHY SAUNDERS 


BECKLEY-CARDY COMPANY, Publishers 
CHICAGO 












TZio 





Copyright, 1929, 

BY 

Beckley-Cardy Company 

AU Rights Reserved 




Printed in the United States of America 


DEC 23 1929 ©ciA A 31620 


CONTENTS 

PETER MAKES GOOD 

PAGE 

A Dog Family. 5 

Peter’s New Home.10 

Getting Acquainted. 18 

Peter on the Farm ..31 

New Scenes.38 

THE TATTLERS 

Pixie and Bob. 47 

Judge Airedale.61 

Petite and Bob Tell Their Stories.76 

Police Dog Stories.83 

Fritz, Who Knew Only German.90 

Gyp, the Garbage Man’s Dog.99 

The Laundress’s Dog.107 

The Devotion of Whitey.115 

The Russian Princess.118 

The Milkman’s Dog Dan.121 

The Whippets.125 

Fire-Fighting Dogs . 133 

The Judge’s Story . 144 

Jack the Traveler. 151 

Tom and Daniel.173 

The Blind Man’s Dog. 177 

3 






















LIST OF FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS 

* 

PAGE 

Peter Learns a Lesson.7 

Peter Sees Fluff for the First Time.15 

Fluff and the Three Aristocrats.24 

Peter Tries to Put Out a Fire ..29 

Peter Helps Bring the Cattle from the Pasture .... 33 

Pixie and Bob.46 

“Judge Was Always Being Called Upon to Decide’^ . . 59 

Petite and Princess.65 

Gyp and the Dachshunds ..68 

The Comical Young Airedale Terrier.79 

Fritz Supplied the Wood for the Fire.92 

Ted Performed Many Stunts to Entertain the Sailors . . 95 

Simon Peter and Buff.HI 

Whitey and Her Mistress.114 

“They Would Chase Rabbits or Any Game They Could 

Scare Up^^.129 

Bill Saves His Master. 135 

Duke Wins Honors. 141 

“The Fight Was On^^. 151 

A Battle Between the Two Warriors.175 

Job Was “Eyes for the Blind’^.180 


4 
















PETER MAKES GOOD 


A DOG FAMILY 

The Coleman family were in possession of a 
roly-poly, fuzzy, brown-and-white pup named 
Peter, called Pete for short. Peter was a combi¬ 
nation of several breeds of dogs. He had good 
and bad relations on both sides of the house, 
but his nearest kin, which were, of course, his 
father, Shep, and his Scotch collie mother, Susie, 
were very worthy dogs. They were not quarrel¬ 
some nor dishonest, lived peaceably with the 
house cat, and never tortured a rabbit before 
they killed it. Indeed, in all dogdom Susie 
and Shep were considered honorable citizens. 

It was on account of this excellent record of 
the parent dogs that these good people were 
wanting one of their likely offspring. They felt 
sure that a member of a family so worthy 
would grow up to be a useful dog. 

Susie had tried to train Pete to be polite, 

5 


6 PETER MAKES GOOD 

and to observe the Golden Rule in his conduct 
toward cats and other animals less fortimate 
than himself. His father had given him a cuff 
on the side of the head when he found him run¬ 
ning off with Betty’s shoe, and told him that 
“dogs who wished to grow up into leading 
citizens in dogdom didn’t steal young ladies’ 
shoes and chew the toes off them.” Then he 
made Pete take the shoe to his mistress, lay it 
at her feet, and wag his tail in apology. 

In this way, these parents tried to instill 
into their son all the good principles they could 
before he should go out into the wide, wide 
world. In Pete’s case, this meant being taken 
in a basket to his new home at Coleman’s. 

Pete’s parting with his home folks was pa¬ 
thetic. All that week he was favored above his 
brothers and sisters. The day before his de¬ 
parture, his father, Shep, took him slyly aside 
and whispered in his ear, “Follow me, but do 
not let even your mother know about it.” 

So Pete watched his chance and, when Susie 
was taking her afternoon nap and others 


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Peter Learns a Lesson 


























8 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


were playing tag, he sniffed about until he took 
up the trail to the garden. There he saw his 
dad digging in the ground. Finally Shep un¬ 
earthed a well seasoned bone. What a treat 
Pete was to have, in being allowed to dine with 
his father off one end of that juicy, earth-flavored 
bone! There was no criticism of his table man¬ 
ners. What if he did fill his mouth too full 
and make a noise when he ate? Nothing was 
said about it, which was unusual, for his dad 
was a stickler for correct eating. Another 
time Pete would have been sent away from the 
feast, had he been greedy and asked for a 
third helping, but to-day, how different! For 
once he was allowed to put both paws on that 
sweet bone and to gnaw and gnaw, while his 
dad stood off smiling approval. 

Peter wished there was no wide world to go 
out into. Why, he was just beginning to get 
along well at home. His brothers and sisters 
envied him, and what satisfaction he got out 
of having them all jealous of him—so nearly 
human was this little piece of dog flesh. The 


A DOG FAMILY 


9 


other pups’ eyes fairly bulged and turned green 
when they saw Susie tucking him tenderly in, 
the night before he was to leave his home. 

How fondly she licked him, paying particu¬ 
lar attention to his ears, to make sure they 
were clean. Now these very ears were always 
a source of dispute at other times. Many a 
cuffing Pete had received when they would not 
bear inspection. But to-night how gentle was 
her touch, what pathos in her whine, as she 
bade him good night! Susie was going through 
a crisis, such as comes to every mother when 
her family circle is broken, and one of her be¬ 
loved ones goes out from the home nest. She 
wanted him to be an honor to her and his father. 
Would he? 

We shall see. 


PETER’S NEW HOME 

The next day Peter was transported to his 
new home. So great was the excitement over 
making the change, that many things Susie 
had intended to say to him in the way of 
good advice were forgotten. With a great 
lump in her throat, which mothers are apt 
to have on such occasions, she bade him good- 
by forever. 

After the thrill of his first ride in an auto¬ 
mobile, Pete arrived at his new home, where 
he was greeted by his new master and mis¬ 
tress. They were a pair of chubby youngsters 
of four and five years, who looked enough alike 
to be twins. There being only one year’s dif¬ 
ference in their ages accounted for this. 

Their names were Mabel and Ralph. Both 
had brown eyes, and their hair was almost the 
color of Peter’s coat. They were delighted to 
see Peter, with his brown eyes and his coat of 
brown and tan, so soft and fuzzy. They 
laughed at his funny little tail. And his silken 
10 


PETER’S NEW HOME 


11 


ears—as the little girl rubbed one of them 
against her cheek, Peter gave a sigh of relief 
because they were clean. 

This episode of the ears reminded him of 
home and his mother, just as other sons who 
have left home for the first time have had their 
memories of their mothers jogged. Peter gulped 
down the lump that came into his little throat; 
he must be brave. That was one of the things 
Shep had emphasized in his advice. He had 
said, “Bravery is the greatest asset for a dog.” 

After each of the children had had a good 
“snuggle” at him, he was given his dinner on 
a beautiful blue plate, all his own. This was 
nice, but in all his life he had never before eaten 
alone. How could he eat, with no one to push 
and crowd him, and no dad to tell him when 
he had had enough? When he took a mouth¬ 
ful of really good bread and gravy, it almost 
choked him. Then those wide-eyed youngsters 
were watching every bite he ate, making him 
feel so self-conscious that he simply could not 
remember his table manners. He put his paws 


12 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


on his plate, and made a noise chewing his food. 
At home, every scrap was eaten, and the plate 
cleaned in a tidy way, ready for the next meal. 
His orderly mother would have been ashamed 
of him, if she could have seen the mess he was 
making of this, his first meal in his new home. 

A survey of the premises was next in order. 
He was shown his bedroom, which was a box on 
the back porch. It was large enough for him 
to stretch out in and be very comfortable. It 
looked about right, but it lacked the “homey” 
odor of his former bed. It was too fresh and 
clean. 

Then Pete had his first touch of homesick¬ 
ness. These youngsters were all right, as young¬ 
sters go, but they were not to be compared 
for company to a family of rollicking puppies. 
What did they know about a game of tug-of- 
war with an old sock, or of ball with a lump of 
coal, and other delightful dog games? With 
a contemptuous shrug of his shoulders, he went 
on with his investigations. 

Out on the window sill, where the sun shone 


PETER’S NEW HOME 


13 


warmly, was something that attracted his at¬ 
tention. Going closer to see more clearly, he 
observed a creature which was something new 
to him. It seemed to be a bundle of fuzzy fur, 
with a head at one end, and something at the 
other end that looked a little like the feather 
duster the puppies used to play with at home. 

The head was loose, too, for now it was 
turning. It opened two eyes, and then a mouth, 
and yawned. All at once, something happened. 
Down the creature pounced, right on Pete’s 
back. He was still uncertain what it was, un¬ 
til it began to spit and snarl. As all cats snarl 
and spit about alike, Pete knew it must be 
some kind of a cat, but how different from the 
cats which he had known. All his former cat 
acquaintances had worn sleek coats with spots 
or striped, and they had had long, slim tails, 
or no tails at all. A Manx cat he had known 
had no tail. 

Fluff, for that was the cat’s name, was as 
much astonished as Peter was, at what she was 
encountering. This was something unlike any- 


14 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


thing she had ever seen before. Something told 
her it was akin to her old enemy, the dog, but 
how harmless this one seemed! Nothing but 
the wag of his ridiculous little tail was at all 
doglike. 

They surveyed each other for a while. Then 
Peter remembered his mother’s advice about 
following the Golden Rule with cats, especially 
when the cat had the advantage, as was the 
situation now. Turning, he ran back to his 
bedroom for a nap, as so much excitement had 
wearied him. 

Hopping into his box, he turned around twice 
before he lay down. Soon he was asleep. When 
he awoke, it was dark. Where was he? Nos¬ 
ing around, he could find no bedfellow, nothing 
that was familiar, and then he realized how 
homesick he was. He wanted his mother 
and he began to cry. 

Upstairs somewhere, awake in a snug, warm 
bed, lay a little boy. He heard that pitiful cry, 
and felt his own little heart ache with pity for 
the baby dog. He listened for a while. Then, 







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Peter Sees Fluff for the First Time 


















































16 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


unable to stand it any longer, he slipped out of 
bed. Tiptoeing his way, so that no one would 
hear him, the boy went out on the cold back 
porch to the puppy. Taking Pete under his 
warm bathrobe, he slipped as quietly back to 
bed. The puppy was “snuggled” in Ralph’s 
arms, and soon dog and boy were fast asleep. 
Thus a bond of affection was established be¬ 
tween these two that proved lasting and true, 
as we shall see. 

The better acquainted Peter got with his 
new friends, the better he liked them, especially 
the boy and the girl. With the latter, however, 
he felt as if he were not in full favor. She seemed 
to prefer petting that presumptuous, fluffy cat, 
rather than him. He was not quite sure, but he 
thought he overheard some such conversation 
as this between them: 

“Fluffy, you must be nice to our new puppy. 
You know he is only a little doggie.” 

There was considerable emphasis laid on the 
“only.” For some reason which Pete did not 
stop to analyze, he determined he would show 


PETER’S NEW HOME 


17 


this pair, the girl and the cat, a few things, when 
he ceased to be “only a little doggie,” and be¬ 
came a real dog. 

Life at this new home was very pleasant for 
Pete. The little boy and he had so much fun, 
that he soon forgot the home he had left. He 
never knew how his mother missed him, for, 
although more puppies came to bless and cheer 
her heart, still she could never forget Pete. 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 

The Coleman children went to school every 
day. The maid went with them across the street, 
and called for them when they were to return. 
This left Pete and the cat at home together. 
They were not getting on very well. Fluff 
was haughty and disdainful, and she was entirely 
too free with her claws, which Pete soon learned 
she hid from sight in those soft, insinuating 
paws of hers. 

After a while Peter became more and more 
venturesome. Peering through the back fence to 
see what was going on across the way, he saw the 
home of the aristocratic Boston bull that Fluff 
feared. Pete would stand with his nose through 
the fence, watching and learning just how a 
grown-up dog did act, and he wondered if he 
would ever grow up to do those wonderful things. 

One day he saw that majestic creature catch¬ 
ing flies. Sitting in front of his kennel, the 
Boston bull would wait until a fly would light 
on his nose. Then, after giving his head a shake 
18 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 19 

to shoo it off, he would snap it up. This was 
interesting to Pete. He decided to try it. 

He went off and lay down. He waited a 
while, pretending to be asleep, but keeping one 
eye open. At last he heard a buzzing sound. 
Some kind of flying creature was near. It was 
aiming for a seat on his nose. Now, a shake, 
a snap—he had it! How thrilling! He would 
try it again, but it would not be necessary to 
keep even one eye open. He closed both. 
Buzz-z-z-z! Another fly was coming. Still as 
a mouse Pete lay waiting. Then all at once 
Pete let out a piercing yelp. The fly had proven 
to be a bee. Pete was stung! After the first 
shock was over, he thought of something else 
his father had told him. He had said always 
to keep one eye on every venture. Pete resolved 
not to get stung again. 

The days sometimes seemed very long to Pete. 
The cat couldn’t or wouldn’t play. She liked 
sunning herself in a lazy fashion on the window 
’sill. He must find some other means of di¬ 


version. 


20 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


When the laundress was hanging up the 
clothes to dry, he would help by taking the 
clothespins in his mouth and handing them 
to her. Sometimes some hidden trait in his 
make-up prompted him to take toll of the 
clothespins when the laundress was not look¬ 
ing. No doubt this was an echo from some 
of those inferior relations on one or the other 
side of his ancestral house. Still, it was a 
natural tendency, as all dogs like to chew clothes¬ 
pins. It sharpens their teeth. 

Pete was getting braver and braver every day, 
and was learning more and more about his 
new home. By keeping his eyes open and watch¬ 
ing the behavior of other dogs, he was develop¬ 
ing into an intelligent pup. He and Ralph 
were real pals, and what the dog was not able 
to find out for himself, the boy would teach 
him, and Pete’s devotion to his teacher was 
marvelous. 

When the children started for school, Pete 
would follow at their heels until the curb was 
reached. In the afternoon he would watch un- 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 21 

til the maid returned with them. Then one 
morning they had to go alone. When they hesi¬ 
tated at the street crossing, Pete ran out in the 
middle of the street and barked in front of all the 
oncoming cars, thus holding up the traffic un¬ 
til Ralph and Mabel were safely across. In 
the afternoon he watched for them and re¬ 
peated the performance. 

One morning, when he had seen the children 
safely across, he discovered that Mabel had 
lost her book. Dodging in front of a big truck, 
he seized the book in his mouth and ducked 
just in time to keep from getting struck. Then 
he raced after the children to deliver the book 
to its little owner. 

The pup grew in grace and charm, as well as 
wisdom. His fuzzy covering was gone, and with 
it had vanished many of his puppy ways. He 
had grown into a fine looking dog. One could 
scarcely recognize the little woolly pup in this 
beautiful brown, shading into tan, animal. He 
had a natty white vest and one white forefoot. 
His tail curled over his back like a plume; but 


22 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


his greatest charm was his eyes. They were 
brown and amber now, and they almost 
twinkled with intelligence when he was spoken 
to. 

Ralph was very proud of him, and entered 
him in all the dog shows, although Pete never 
won any medals, because of his lack of pedigree. 
Had a prize been given for real worth and 
good character, he would have carried off the 
blue ribbon, for Pete was well raised and had 
good training. 

Some pedigreed animals, and some pedigreed 
people are snobbish and rude. Such was the 
case with the Boston bull on the other side of 
the fence, and with some others in this ex¬ 
clusive neighborhood. This was brought for¬ 
cibly to Pete’s attention one morning. After 
he had piloted the children across the street, 
on returning to his own curb, he heard loud 
barking around the comer. Curious to know 
what was the cause of it all, he ran in the direc¬ 
tion of the noise. 

Imagine his surprise and indignation at what 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 23 

he saw! Up a tree, just beyond the reach of 
their upturned noses, was Fluff, Mabel’s cat, 
driven there by three of the aristocrats, and 
held at bay by their, to her, bloodcurdling 
yelps. The Boston bull seemed to be in charge. 
His confederates were a prize-winning Airedale, 
with a pedigree reaching back through countless 
generations, and a German police dog, whose 
ancestors had been trained to torment French 
prisoners, away back during the Franco-Prus- 
sian war. With murderous motives these three 
had Fluff surrounded when Pete appeared on 
the scene. 

Without stopping to consider that he was 
apparently outmatched, Pete sprang at their 
heels, snapping and biting first one and then 
another, until he had their attention drawn 
from the cat. Then he started to run, with the 
three in pursuit. This was what he wanted. 
By keeping several jumps ahead of them, he got 
to his own door just as someone was coming out, 
and he bounded inside. Meantime Fluff had not 
let any grass grow under her feet; she had 



Fluff and the Three Aristocrats 
























GETTING ACQUAINTED 25 

arrived at the back door first. Once inside, 
she did a very unusual thing. Approaching 
Pete, she rubbed her sides against his legs, 
purring her thanks; and she never forgot this 
act of gallantry which he had performed for her. 
There may have been no blue blood in this 
dog, but this episode proved that there were 
no yellow streaks. 

Ralph was growing into a big boy, and was 
engaged in the activities and sports that the 
average boy of his age enjoys. He was a member 
of the Boy Scouts, and of the “Sand Lot Ball 
Team”; but his love for Peter was as great as 
ever. He always wanted his dog with him in 
his sports, and Pete, appreciating this, proved 
himself a boon companion. 

Any game that Pete did not sanction by a 
smile and a wag of his tail was not entered into 
with much zest. When a game with a competing 
team was scheduled to come off, it was talked 
over with Pete somewhat in this fashion: 

“Well, old pal, what do you think about it? 
Are we going to win? You know Bud Sanders, 


26 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


Pete—he’s one of their best pitchers; but of 
course our team can show something just as 
good. If you say so, we will beat them.” 

Then Pete would stretch out, yawn, and 
make a noise that Ralph always knew meant 
either yes or no; it all depended on the 
expression of the dog’s countenance when he 
made it. If the prediction were favorable for 
their team, boy and dog would start for the 
diamond, full of enthusiasm. 

Pete would enter into the spirit of the game 
along with the boys, and would watch the ball 
with quivering excitement, when Ralph sent it 
flying and made a home run. Before Jack could 
bring it back, Pete seemed to know just where 
that ball dropped to earth, and would beat 
the boys to it, bringing it to the pitcher and 
dropping it at his feet. 

Sometimes an argument would start on the 
field of combat, and Ralph would be sur¬ 
rounded by a loud-mouthed, fist-shaking 
squad. Pete would edge his way through and 
take a position near his master, wag his tail 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 27 

slowly, and listen intently, as if asking what it 
was all about, and weighing the pros and cons. 
Ralph would reach down, pat him on the head 
and ask, “Which way was it, old pal?” 

Not always were the other boys willing to 
take Pete’s decision, and the matter might be 
left to the referee; but always Pete stood val¬ 
iantly by his master in every matter. 

By this time the bull dog next door had 
learned to have more respect for Peter. A boy 
about Ralph’s age had come to live with his 
master and mistress. He was a nice boy, and 
he and Ralph were very good friends. Both 
were good scouts and, as they were together a 
great deal, the dogs, after a few encounters, 
learned to endure, if not to like, one another. 

They accompanied the boys on hikes and, 
one day, when the boys and their two dogs were 
going gaily through the woods, kicking up the 
dry leaves, Pete, the younger and more active 
dog, ran on ahead and out of sight of the boys. 
Soon they heard a great barking. Hurrying 
along, they found Pete pawing and stamping 


28 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


in an attempt to put out a fire that was just 
starting from a cigarette, which had been care¬ 
lessly thrown among the dry leaves. 

The boys finished extinguishing the fire, and 
then turned their attention to Pete, whose feet 
were burned. They knew the burns must be 
extremely painful. Feeling very sorry for the 
dog, and full of enthusiastic admiration for his 
splendid courage, they made a litter for him, 
such as they would have made for one of 
their own scout comrades. The boys carried 
Pete home, and the bull dog kept close to his 
master’s heels, so as not to be left entirely out. 

Peter’s mother, Susie, would have been very 
proud if she had known her son was the means 
of saving the countryside from a destructive 
fire. 

Shep, no doubt, would have said, ‘T knew 
Pete would amount to something.” 

Reaching home, the boys treated Pete’s sore 
feet with a healing salve and made him com¬ 
fortable. 

It is uncertain whether or not dogs can com- 



Peter Tries to Put Out a Fire 































30 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


municate with each other, but, by some means, 
the news got abroad that Pete was laid up, and 
every dog in the neighborhood came to call. 
It was suspected that the bull had something 
to do with it, as he seemed to be master of 
ceremonies. His admiration for Pete seemed 
suddenly to have increased. After each dog 
had sniffed at Pete’s sore paws, they raced off. 


PETER ON THE FARM 

It was now vacation time and Pete and his 
master were anticipating a good time. Ralph 
and Mabel usually spent a part of the time on 
their grandfather’s farm, and Pete was going 
along. At Grandfather’s there were two small 
dogs, but that would be all right with Pete, 
who acted in a big-brotherly way toward them, 
sharing with them whatever he had to eat. 

There was just one quarter from which Peter 
would allow no interference. That was from a 
goat that roamed at will over the place. Until 
this visit to the farm, he had never seen a goat. 
His first encounter with this one had been quite 
disastrous to Pete’s pride; so, having no wish to 
repeat the set-to, he left the goat with the but¬ 
ting disposition severely alone. 

Although Pete, in accordance with his good 
mother’s teachings, was generous with the small 
dogs, there was one thing he would not permit. 
That was their following him to the bone ceme¬ 
tery. This was forbidden ground. Out in the 
31 


32 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


orchard, under the apple trees, where the earth 
was mellow, was his favorite, exclusive spot. 

If Pete observed the others following him to 
the orchard, he would chase them back and tell 
them to stay there. Then he would feast and 
enjoy to his heart’s content the gnawing of 
those delicious, earth-seasoned morsels. This 
always carried him back to the time when his 
father and he had gnawed the bone in the garden 
at home. Thus Shep had revealed to his son 
the social side of his nature. The small dogs 
learned to respect Pete’s privacy and stayed 
away. 

Peter was trained to help Ralph bring up the 
cattle from the pasture. On several occasions, 
when it was raining, he brought them in alone. 
In the lot was Duke, the king of the herd. 
Usually he was a safe and docile animal, but one 
evening something seemed to be wrong. Duke 
was in an ugly mood, pawing and bellowing at 
a great rate, and refusing to be lined up with 
the cows. 

Ralph struck Duke with a gad, which was a 




Peter Helps Bring the Cattle from the Pasture 



























34 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


great mistake on the boy’s part. The animal 
charged. Ralph ducked and ran for a near-by 
tree, climbing up before the bull reached him. 

Pete did his best to help his master. He 
barked and snapped at the enemy, but to no 
avail. He then looked up at Ralph, as much 
as to say, “What more can I do?” 

“Get Grandpa,” the boy called to him. 

Off Pete ran, over the fence, and on to the 
house. In a little while, back he bounded with 
Grandfather and the hired man following, with 
weapons of defense to liberate the prisoner. And 
so Peter proved to be the hero of the day. 

The summer was one of profit and pleasure 
both to the dogs and the children. Grand¬ 
mother knew how to make the most delicious 
cookies, which Pete shared along with the chil¬ 
dren. He helped hunt the eggs. Finding a 
nest, he would stand and wag his tail until 
they got the eggs. He also assisted in rounding 
up the young poultry to be shut in for the 
night. 

When the work was all done, the children 


PETER ON THE FARM 


35 


and the dogs would go' through the woods to 
the old swimming hole. While the boy and 
his sister were enjoying the water, the dogs 
found many things to attract their attention. 
One of them would stir up a chipmunk or a 
rabbit. Then all would give chase. If the little 
creature went into a hole in the ground, it fell 
to Pete, as the largest and strongest, to dig it 
out, while the others would stand off, barking 
their encouragement. When at last he would 
find it, Pete would permit no torturing of their 
prey; it must be killed skillfully and at once. 

The time passed all too quickly. School soon 
would open. Mabel and Ralph were entering 
high school. Pete was now a dignified, full- 
grown dog, looking hke his father, Shep, but 
having the gentle disposition of his mother, 
Susie. 

Although he was not a quarrelsome dog, and 
never attacked a dog smaller than himself, still 
Peter was all dog. In reading these records of 
this grown-up puppy’s doings, we must remem¬ 
ber that he was without royal ancestry. He 


36 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


was not registered as to pedigree, but was just 
an ordinary, middle-class dog, with a high sense 
of honor, inherited from honest parent dogs. 

The bull dog, whose name was Joe, was grow¬ 
ing old and slow of gait. He and Pete had be¬ 
come fast friends. Time had taken some of 
the arrogance out of his manner. He had been 
condescending in his attitude toward Pete, but 
now he showed more interest and some affec¬ 
tion. It was pathetic to note Pete’s deference 
for the old chap. Perhaps that had something 
to do with his change of heart. Were they out 
for a walk, Pete would run on ahead, and then 
wait for the old dog to catch up, or run back 
to him and walk slowly beside him. 

The time came when old Joe was unable to 
go out. He would sit outside his kennel dozing, 
having not even strength enough to snap at 
the flies that bothered him. Pete spent a great 
deal of time with him. He would lie near by 
sleeping, or would drink in a social way from 
Joe’s drinking pan. He did many other little 
comforting things to show good comradeship. 


PETER ON THE FARM 


37 


One very warm day the dogs were panting 
with the heat. Their tongues were lolling out 
of their mouths, and they drank a great deal 
of water, Pete taking the last drop. Soon poor 
old Joe, bending down to get a drink, found the 
pan dry. Pete jumped up and, taking the edge 
of the pan in his mouth, ran to the screen door, 
where he scratched until the cook came. Then 
he lifted the empty pan to her to be filled. 

One morning, a short while after this hot 
spell, Pete came to see his old friend, whom he 
had learned really to love. The bull dog was 
missing from his customary place, so Pete looked 
into the kennel. There lay poor old Joe, dead. 
This was Pete’s first experience with that mys¬ 
terious condition. His reaction was only nor¬ 
mal and doglike, for he proceeded to eat up the 
remnants of the bull dog’s supper, drank all 
the water, and then ran off to find a live dog to 
play with. Dogs seldom show grief for their 
own kind. 


NEW SCENES 


The years rolled on. At last the children were 
grown and ready for college, and in the fall 
Ralph was to go to a university. Mabel was 
to attend another school. 

Pete was conscious that something was 
about to happen. His master would pat him 
lovingly on the head, and then slip an arm 
around his neck. Then he would begin talking 
about going away, saying, “Well, old pal, how 
are we going to stand this? Do you think you 
will miss me?” 

Pete would kiss his young master, dog- 
fashion; then he would lie down at his feet in 
the most devoted way. 

The university to which Ralph was going 
was not a great distance, sixty miles or a little 
further, from his home. A trip was taken to 
make arrangements about entering. Peter 
much to his delight, was allowed to go with 
his master in the automobile. 

He took an inventory of the place where they 

38 


NEW SCENES 


39 


went. Nothing escaped him. There seemed to 
be some dogs at this school. At least, he saw 
several following the young men students, and 
it certainly was an ideal place for a dog to be. 
Storing all these things in his mind, Pete re¬ 
turned to his home, somewhat more reconciled 
to have Ralph go from him, as he concluded 
that all was for the best. 

Soon preparations were completed, and 
Ralph was ready to leave, this time by train. 
Peter went to the depot with the rest of the 
family to see his master off. Ralph was very 
brave, for he wanted to show that he was now a 
man, and he thought any show of emotion was 
womanish. He bade everyone farewell. Last 
of all, he patted his dog affectionately, saying, 
“Well, good-by, old pal.” 

All went well for a month or so. Pete would 
wander around as if looking for something, but 
he seemed to be taking his loss in a sensible way. 
Then, one morning, he was missing. Nowhere 
could he be found. Search and the offer of re¬ 
wards failed to bring him back. He was given 


40 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


up as lost. The family came to the conclusion 
that Pete had either been stolen or struck by an 
automobile. Then a letter came from Ralph, 
in which he wrote: “Whom should I see on the 
campus one day, when I was returning from 
class, but good old Pete?” 

Maybe you think that was not a joyous meet¬ 
ing ! Ralph did not tell all in his letter, but his 
mother read between the lines, and knew there 
were some tears shed. Ralph was feeling some 
of the pangs of homesickness that a certain 
little puppy once had felt, and the dog under¬ 
stood and sympathized. 

Ralph by this time was comfortably es¬ 
tablished in a fraternity house, where there were 
other boys with their dogs, and Peter was at 
once made a member of the group. Almost any 
day Ralph could be seen crossing the campus, 
his arms full of books, with Pete trotting along 
at his heels. These were happy days for the 
dog. The boy, too, seemed to be perfectly con¬ 
tented, now that his faithful friend was with 
him. 


NEW SCENES 


41 


Pete seemed to understand that his remain¬ 
ing at college all depended upon his good be¬ 
havior, so he carried himself with dignity. He 
never chased squirrels and never frightened the 
children who came on the campus to play. He 
was polite, and moved off the sidewalk to let 
the ladies pass, showing in many ways that he 
had come from a good home, where the train¬ 
ing had been of the right kind. 

Ralph was elected to play on the ball team. 
Pete had not forgotten the times back home on 
the sand lot, when he had helped his master 
win many a game, so he was on hand to do his 
bit on these occasions. However, he was not 
so young as he used to be and he was not so 
agile in bringing back the ball. As the other 
members of the team who had dogs thought 
they could get along without his help, Pete had 
to be tied up when a game was on, much to his 
chagrin. 

Ralph, who had been one of the best players 
on the high school squad, was given a place on 
the team when the football season commenced. 


42 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


All went well until one day, when there was 
a close game with another university, Ralph 
was injured. The track was wet and slippery, 
and Ralph’s ankle turned, throwing him and 
wrenching his back. 

This unfortunate accident kept Ralph con¬ 
fined to his room, and on his back for some 
time. But for Peter, he would have spent many 
lonely hours before he could again go to classes. 
The dog would lie on the rug in front of the gas 
stove, where he could keep one eye on his be¬ 
loved master. 

On the night of the oratorical contest all of 
the boys were gone, and Ralph and Pete were 
alone in the house. Having read until he was 
tired, Ralph closed his eyes, and soon he was 
sound asleep. Pete was lying in his customary 
place before the stove. The door leading out 
into the corridor was open; also one leading 
onto the fire escape. Suddenly Peter began 
barking and pulling at the covering on Ralph, 
who awakened to find himself nearly suffocated 
by smoke that filled the house. 


NEW SCENES 


43 


Ralph realized that the house was on fire, 
and felt his helplessness, as he was not yet able 
to walk since his accident; but something must 
be done, and quickly. Dragging himself off 
the couch, he managed to get his arm around 
the dog’s neck, and in this way the two of them 
made their way through the smoke to the fire 
escape. From there, Ralph gave the alarm 
and was rescued, just as the walls crumbled. 
The fire had made such headway that nothing 
could save the house. Had it not been for 
this prince among dogs, Ralph’s life would have 
gone out while he slept. Susie and Shep had 
sown good seed when they taught Peter that 
bravery was a good trait for a dog to have. 

Peter was growing old. There was no doubt 
about it; he was getting stiff in his joints, and 
his hearing was not so good. When he was 
alone, he found it difficult to keep from being 
struck by the automobiles, whose careless driv¬ 
ers had no regard for life of either dog or child, 
but would come tearing along at reckless speed. 

One day Pete was crossing to the campus. 


44 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


when a car came in sight. It was one of those 
that college boys seem to enjoy driving more 
than any other kind, a rickety old bus, without 
top and not much else but wheels and an en¬ 
gine. In this semblance of a car were as many 
boys as it would hold. They were having a 
hilarious time, returning from a game. 

There was so much noise, as they went zig¬ 
zagging through the street, that poor Pete be¬ 
came confused and was caught under the wheels 
of this death trap. Thus a precious life went 
out. This was the closing of a career of one of 
the most faithful of God’s creatures in the ani¬ 
mal kingdom. He was one who laid no claim to 
anything but ordinary ability, natural instincts, 
and a reaction to kind treatment that paid a 
hundredfold. 

Ralph felt his loss so keenly that, after laying 
Peter’s broken body away, he conceived the idea 
of writing a book about dogs. He would de¬ 
pict only the good qualities or instincts, which, 
if developed, would make even yellow mongrels 
into decent dogs. To the memory of his be- 


NEW SCENES 45 

loved Peter he would dedicate a collection of 
really good and true stories, with the hope that 
other boys would derive, from the companion¬ 
ship and knowledge of dogs, such inspiration 
as had helped to develop his own character, 
making him an ardent defender of all faithful 
creatures. 

So this is how The Tattlers came to be written. 









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Pixie and Bob 




































THE TATTLERS 

PIXIE AND BOB 

It was a beautiful street where the dogs all 
lived, lined on one side by stately palms. The 
lawns were smooth as velvet, and always green, 
in spite of the fact that it seldom rained in this 
country. Flowers and clinging vines helped to 
enhance the beauty. The owners of the homes 
on this well kept street were rich and could afford 
every luxury for themselves, as well as every¬ 
thing appropriate to their respective positions. 

That anyone or anything could be unhappy 
in such environment seemed unbelievable. How¬ 
ever, one little heart was aching there. It was 
that of a poor little rich Pomeranian, so tiny 
that the amount which had been paid for her 
would cover her nicely, were it in bills. 

Notwithstanding the fact that Pixie, for that 
was her name, was fondled and petted, wore 
beautiful clothes, slept on a silk pillow at the 
47 


48 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


foot of her mistress’s bed, and won all the prizes 
at the fancy dog shows, indeed, had every wish 
gratified, she was very unhappy to-day. 

Pixie’s owners, who had bought her in Lon¬ 
don, were proud of her long pedigree, which 
they never failed to mention, and also that 
she was registered along with dogs belonging 
to the King and Queen. This was exceedingly 
gratifying to everyone concerned, and the awe 
with which people expressed their admiration 
for a mite like her that had hobnobbed with 
royalty, was astonishing. 

She was in this lovely home, and had nothing 
to do but go through a few silly tricks, such as 
sneezing when she was told to, whether she felt 
like it or not. To be sure she would be rewarded 
with some little bit of sweet for performing. But 
the worst was to have to sit up on her haunches, 
close her eyes, and say her prayers, in order that 
her admirers might have a hearty laugh. 

Pixie never felt like laughing herself, as some¬ 
thing in her made her feel cross at such times. 
Besides, where did her mistress get that idea of 


PIXIE AND BOB 


49 


saying prayers in that way? Pixie never saw her 
mistress say prayers in that or any other way. 
If she had, would she have liked to be laughed 
at? 

These were only a few of the things this mite 
of a dog, who was worth her weight in gold, had 
to trouble her, for she was possessed as we have 
seen of a small organ necessary to her existence, 
called a heart. This, we like to think, was 
susceptible to emotions similar to those of 
others of God’s creatures. 

That this “angel dog,” as her mistress some¬ 
times called her, could have a heartache never 
occurred to that lady, yet just now Pixie truly was 
troubled. Every morning Celeste, the French 
maid, whose ancestors came from the same coun¬ 
try that was the home of Pixie’s, would take her 
out for exercise and fresh air. Pixie loved going 
to the park nearby. At the entrance, the maid 
would take the leash from her collar and allow 
her her liberty. 

Celeste would stop to visit with other maids 
who had brought either children or dogs with 


50 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


them. The one with whom she was holding 
conversation to-day was the Judge’s maid, who 
had a yoimg Airedale pup in tow. This young 
dog was also allowed to run at large. He was 
so homely and awkward that Pixie was ashamed 
to be seen with him, although he, like herself, 
was supposed to be of blue blood. Yet since he 
belonged to their set, she felt that she must be 
polite to him. 

He became familiar and this put Pixie on her 
dignity. They started out together, but the 
Pom was haughty and disdainful. 

“He is so common and ugly,” she thought. 

Pixie was not wise in her reasoning, or she 
would have wanted just such a background to 
show off her own beauty. How her lovely, 
golden-brown coat glistened in the sun, and how 
stiff, bristly and fuzzy the Airedale’s coat looked 
in comparison. And such ears! And was there 
anything more ridiculous than that stub of a 
tail? Why, that must be why he was called 
Bob. Such were the observations that Pixie 
was making to herself. 


PIXIE AND BOB 


51 


Still Pixie was trying to be polite, as one in 
her position in dogdom should be, but she 
resented the Airedale’s friendly advances, and 
when Bob challenged her to a race, she became 
very cool indeed. She felt that sometimes one’s 
standing required the toleration of “impossible” 
dogs, but one did not have to lower her dignity 
in doing so. 

Bob must have sensed something of what 
was in this haughty lady dog’s mind, for he 
began bragging. “She wasn’t so much after 
all.” His master lived in a larger, finer house 
than hers. Besides, his master was a Judge, 
who knew about everything and owned two 
dogs, real dogs—himself and his father—both 
with pedigrees and family trees planted in the 
north of England. They were grafted onto an 
Irish terrier branch, and noted for a lot of 
things. He failed to say that one of the traits 
for which they were noted was their quick tem¬ 
pers when they were young and undisciplined. 

Bob had some things of which to be proud, 
too, so he began strutting before Pixie, which 


52 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


only made matters worse, as far as their ever 
being friends was concerned. 

Then Bob, who, you must remember, was 
young and thoughtless, began making insult¬ 
ing growls, which meant that he knew a few 
things. ‘‘Hadn’t Celeste told their maid that 
Pixie’s great-great-grandmother was a wolf-dog, 
and that she had one of the largest families? 
She was known to have had twenty puppies, 
and she had to leave them to look after them¬ 
selves while she helped Pixie’s great-great-grand¬ 
father shoo off the wolves.” He wound up by 
saying, “And my master says it is true. He 
looked it up in the book,” 

Now Pixie was a “perfect lady,” yet there 
remained in her blood a taint of the fighting 
propensity that had enabled her great-great- 
grandparents to shoo off those hungry wolves, 
and she was not going to stand for any such 
unkind remarks from a mere Irish Airedale 
terrier pup. 

She flew at him, snapping and biting his 
awkward legs, and barking her loudest, which 


PIXIE AND BOB 


53 


only made Bob smile, though it is hard to 
believe that Airedales do smile, so solemn are 
their countenances. He decided to show her 
what real barking was like, and the big bass 
bow-bow that he let out so frightened Pixie that 
she scampered off to the French maid. 

In this way the morning was spoiled for the 
little Pom, who shed tears when she thought 
of her poor great-great-grandmother having to 
leave those dear little puppies to help shoo off 
those terrible wolves. Looking around at her 
surroundings, she thought how different was her 
condition. She had everything to make her 
happy. She could sit in her mistress’s lap and 
eat off her plate if she wanted to. She would 
never have a large family of puppies to bother 
with; and of course there would never be any 
wolves to disturb her. 

As this brought her thoughts back to the 
happenings of the morning and that dreadful 
Airedale pup, a shudder went through her small 
body. “Will I always have to encounter that 
dog when I go to the park?” she wondered. 


54 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


There were many dogs at the park, but with 
most of them Pixie must not play. She could 
associate with only the dogs in her particular 
circle, and give these others only a haughty stare 
when she met them. 

The Airedale pup, not used to being snubbed, 
was taking this slight seriously. After Pixie 
left him, he felt he was in need of sympathy. 
That Pixie was a lady and had very sharp teeth 
prevented him from demanding an apology. 
Had she been one of his own kind, and of his 
own size. Bob would have fought it out. He 
would have had the apology, too; but as it was 
he must have advice. 

Looking across the park, he saw the gleam 
of a brass-studded collar which looked like the 
regulation collar for dogs in their neighborhood. 
Going over there, he found three dogs, all be¬ 
longing in his set. They were taking the air 
while their attendants sat on the benches and 
read the morning papers. 

Bob, who was still smarting from Pixie’s 
snub, told them his tale of woe. 


PIXIE AND BOB 


55 


“I have been mistreated by a pert little 
flapper of a Pom, with a ribbon around her 
neck—and such superior airs she was assuming, 
when she is only the great-great-granddaughter 
of a wolf-dog, who, away back there in the old 
country, raised dozens of puppies and shooed 
wolves I” 

His hearers sat around on their haunches, 
with their tongues lolling out, and listened in¬ 
tently. Being unable to get an expression from 
them collectively. Bob questioned them one by 
one as to what they thought of Pixie, and what 
he should do about her behavior to him. 

All except one expressed opinions. The ex¬ 
ception was a young police dog, whose family 
tree was flourishing over there. If he was not 
mistaken, there were traditions in his family 
which bore some relation to the story about 
the little Pomeranian dogs being able to frighten 
his own ancestors, when they were hungry and 
weak, and wanted only a good meal from the 
poultry pens. Yet he hoped there was some 
mistake about the story. It did not seem pos- 


56 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


sible that a mere Pom could frighten a noble 
wolf. Yet he admired Pixie. 

The next dog consulted was a little pug, 
named Ruby. She was quite well acquainted 
with Pixie, had met her abroad, and had come 
home on the same ship with her. Both of them 
had been prize-v/inners at a dog show in 
England. Their respective mistresses had 
bought them from the same kennels. There 
had been considerable discussion as to the merits 
of the two dogs. Both had wanted the Pom, 
and quite a bit of feeling arose between the two 
ladies on the subject. In fact, the pug’s mistress, 
in a polite way, claimed the other lady had used 
questionable methods to procure the coveted 
dog. However, nothing could be done about it 
now, as Pixie’s mistress was better able to pay 
the purchase price. 

So the pug was taken; but Ruby always 
felt there was a lack of sincerity in her owner’s 
voice when she declared to Pixie’s owner, “No 
amount of money would induce me to part 
with my dear little pug. She is the smartest, 


PIXIE AND BOB 


57 


brightest dog I ever knew.” Then too, Ruby 
had overheard Pixie’s mistress telling some one 
that pugs were stupid dogs who did nothing 
but eat and snore. 

Considering these facts, it was not difficult 
for Bob to enlist Ruby’s sympathy. Aside from 
this. Ruby was envious of Pixie’s beautiful fur 
coat. It was so soft and warm. Pixie had no 
need to wear an overcoat that made her look 
like a stuffed sausage when she went riding. 
And she didn’t snore when she slept. The pug 
at once became Bob’s ally. 

The other one in the group was a little French 
poodle who was fond of Pixie, because, not¬ 
withstanding that one was of German descent 
and the other of French, they got along nicely 
together. Though unlike in color, they had 
many traits in common. Both had ancestors 
who were valiant and courageous. Having this 
beautiful French poodle, whose name was Petite, 
to champion her cause was favorable for 
Pixie, had she known about it; but Pixie was 
blissfully unaware of the controversy. 


58 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


Petite’s and Pixie’s mistresses were old friends, 
and both dogs had heard complimentary re¬ 
marks about each other, so Bob could not count 
on the French poodle’s sympathy. She was 
decidedly for Pixie. Nothing could be settled 
with the weight of opinion so unequally bal¬ 
anced. 

Bob’s pride had had a jolt, and the matter 
must be adjusted. He would take the case to 
his father to decide. The elder Airedale was 
one of those large boned, solenm looking dogs 
that always look as if they were thinking deeply 
on some subject of importance. At the same 
time, there is a comical twist to their counte¬ 
nances that harks back to some trait in their 
Irish ancestry. Because of these characteristics, 
and the fact that his owner was on the bench, 
this old Airedale was called Judge. 

Besides being Bob’s father. Judge was also a 
sort of father confessor to all the dogs in the 
neighborhood. He was always being called upon 
to decide the rights of the case in the squabbles 
of the dogs. Was there a scrap over a bone. 



Judge Was Always Being Called Upon to Decide 














































60 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


or had some of the dogs mistreated a cat that 
was unable to defend itself, Judge would ad¬ 
minister a cuffing to the offenders. Even his 
own son was granted no mercy when he was 
brought into court for some disturbance he had 
caused, but was given a good cuffing if Judge 
found him guilty. 


JUDGE AIREDALE 

With some misgivings, therefore, Bob ap¬ 
proached his father on this subject. He decided 
he would wait until he was sure his dad was 
in a happy mood. After the noonday meal, 
when they were both comfortably full, and Judge 
had had his nap, was the most likely time. 
Then, cautiously. Bob broached the matter of 
his wounded pride. Having no mother to 
smooth the way for him. Bob was at the mercy 
of his father’s candor. Judge, realizing this 
fact, became interested in learning about the 
case. 

He inquired as to how many families were 
acquainted with the story, and how much had 
really been said about the personal appearance 
of his offspring. This was a delicate subject, 
as there was a strong resemblance between father 
and son. Just how far into the family records 
had Pixie delved? Of course, no one in this 
neighborhood knew of the family skeleton. 
That was safe. Bob was very brief about his 
61 


62 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


part in the encounter. He mentioned nothing 
about his terrible bow-wows, which had so 
frightened the pert Pom that she had turned 
pale under her heavy coat. 

Judge, rubbing his chin with his ponderous 
paw, said, “I will take up the case, but I will 
defer a decision until more evidence can be pro¬ 
cured. Meantime I will investigate.” 

In the interval each of the dogs that knew 
about the affair related it to every other dog 
they met. It was discussed not only in the 
best families, but the garbage man’s dog heard 
of it, and he told it to the laundress’s yellow 
mongrel, who met the milkman’s shepherd 
collie. As the latter traveled around town, 
and was an excellent reporter, the news spread 
and the story grew and grew, until the owners 
of the dogs were also involved. When at last 
it came to their ears, they were puzzled to know 
what it was all about. 

Judge, hearing about how the news of this 
little affair had grown until it was called a 
scandal, decided he must act quickly to settle 


JUDGE AIREDALE 63 

the wagging of those busybodies’ tongues. He 
would hold a session and call the whole neigh¬ 
borhood of dogs into court. The police dog 
was to summon them. Each one that had a 
share in this matter, regardless of what was his 
standing in society, must appear before him to 
be punished. 

It was an outrage that a dog of Judge’s high 
standing should be so maligned, for at last the 
story had grown until it was unsavory, and a 
great injustice had been done to the father of 
such a promising son. Summoning the German 
police dog. Judge made a list of those who 
were responsible for the wide spread of the story. 
Among these were Ruby, the pug. Petite, the 
white French poodle, and those to whom they 
had told the interesting bit of news. 

In their set was an English bulldog named 
Bill, who was a distant relative on the terrier 
side of the Airedale family. Bill felt that it 
would be disloyal not to support the Airedales 
in their contention, especially as the matter had 
been laid before him by Ruby, who gave her 


64 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


own version of it, adding as much local color as 
she could. 

Bill, in turn, told a friend, a Boston bull, and 
so it went. Among their select set, everyone 
who repeated the tale added something to it. 

It was left to dear little Petite, the fluffy French 
poodle, who always wore white, to defend the 
little Pom. With tears in her eyes. Petite told 
all her friends how that “impossible Airedale 
pup had insulted her dear friend. Pixie.” She 
wept on the shoulder of a stately Russian wolf¬ 
hound, named Princess, who had been “over” 
only a short time, and who was bewildered by - 
Petite’s show of emotion. For some time indeed 
Princess was unable to understand what it all 1 
meant. 

Expressing her indignation in a dignified and 
charming way at the effrontery of the Airedale, | 
the Princess promised to call on the little Pom | 
and extend her sympathy. She passed the sad j 
news on to a water spaniel, who just then 
emerged from the drinking fountain basin, where 
he had been taking a bath. Although he shook 














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Petite and Princess 

































66 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


the water from his wet coat all over her, which 
at another time would have been good cause for 
a show of temper, even from a lady dog of noble 
birth, she passed it by unnoticed, so eager was 
she to enlist all her friends in Pixie’s cause. 

On up the street these two went to where 
lived two squatty little dachshunds, whose 
ancestors, like Pixie’s, were real warriors. It 
was said of them that they attacked badgers, 
an action requiring great courage. They too 
had a friendly feeling for Pixie; and then the 
Princess was so sweet in her manner and so eager 
to clear her little friend’s name of any sus¬ 
picion, they could not resist her, even though 
they saw that the chances of the Airedale were 
growing slim, and that it was scarcely fair for 
all of his friends to turn against him. 

It was through these little, sociable dachs¬ 
hunds that the story spread to the other element 
of society in dogdom. The garbage man’s dog. 
Gyp, who always accompanied his master on 
his collection trips, was a good watchdog. He 
was watching the empty cans while his master 


JUDGE AIREDALE 67 

stopped to chat with the laundress. He had 
his hands full with the dogs who pestered him 
for a chance at the tidbits left in the cans. 
Finally, Gyp, being of a practical turn of mind, 
began bartering with the dogs for an exchange, 
just as boys do. The dachshunds had some¬ 
thing desirable in this story they had heard, 
and promised they would give the details as an 
after-dinner speech, if they could come to terms, 
which they did. 

While they were delivering the purchase price 
of their lunch, the laundress’s yellow mongrel 
listened in. Gyp was emphatically against the 
Airedale. Once Gyp had fallen into the hands of 
the law, and had almost been taken to the dog 
pound, so he was bitter against law, and every¬ 
one connected with it. This, of course, included 
the Judge. 

Such was not the feeling of the little yellow 
mongrel, who was of no particular breed. He 
was just plain dog, and did not mind it one bit 
if he was. His mistress gave the Judge two 
days of her time every week, and he knew the 













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Gyp and the Dachshunds 
























































JUDGE AIREDALE 69 

Airedale quite well. The Judge’s folks had 
been kind to him, giving him many meaty bones 
after dinner. Sometimes the boys played with 
him, too, in the back yard, where it was nice 
and private. The fence was so high no one could 
see them. For all of this, he was most grate¬ 
ful, and intended to stand by the Judge. He 
was not going to say anything about it to any¬ 
one, except the milkman’s dog, and he must 
promise not to repeat the story. Anyway, he 
lived away on the other side of town, where 
they would probably not be interested. 

This is how this contention, which, in its 
beginning was just a misunderstanding between 
two inoffensive dogs, grew until friendly rela¬ 
tions were strained to the breaking point. 

Having arranged for a hearing on a certain 
evening, when all the dogs were again in the 
park. Judge impaneled a jury. Then, upon 
e xam i nin g the jury, he found that not one of 
the members was fit to serve, as all had gossiped 
about the case. There were not “twelve good 
dogs and true” to be found in the town. 


70 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


Because of this state of affairs, some other 
plan must be followed. Judge decided that he 
would punish all of the worst offenders. The 
principals, which meant Pixie and Bob, he would 
talk to privately. Pixie no doubt by this time 
was very sorry and ready to apologize to Bob. 

The gossips he would attend to first. Since 
they were so eager to tell stories about other 
dogs, he would require each of them to come, 
one at a time, and tell him a true story of some 
brave or clever happening of which they had 
heard. Perhaps there were family traditions 
that were worth repeating, as in the case of Pixie 
and the dachshunds. It would be a good way 
to train their minds, and to teach them to look 
for the good and to ignore the bad in all dogs. 
Besides, it would keep them busy. As their 
outings were limited to about two hours each 
day, it would be possible for them to hear no 
more than one long, or, possibly, several short 
stories each time. 

The police dog, being next in importance to 
the Judge, was required to begin this series of 


JUDGE AIREDALE 71 

punishment. The Judge, after the class in 
story-telling had paid the penalty and the law 
was satisfied, was to tell a very interesting story 
himself—one containing much human interest 
and moral advice. 

Although he was somewhat vain and pom¬ 
pous, the Judge was at heart a good dog. He 
desired to raise the standard of morals in dog- 
dom, and knew that the only way to do that 
was to fill the empty heads of the dogs with 
something besides gossip. A research story¬ 
telling campaign he hoped would prove the first 
step toward reform. 

A program was arranged. Each one was, in 
his or her turn, to tell whatever story he or she 
knew on a given subject; or they could relate 
anything of interest that had occurred in their 
own families. Detective stories would be in 
the German police dog’s line. Also stories of 
German country dogs. One very interesting 
story he knew about a large Dane that could 
understand nothing but German. 

All the dogs were so interested, and so eager 


72 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


to begin, that they ran around in circles. The 
court session having adjourned, the police dog 
escorted them out of the park, and requested 
that all of them be on time promptly the next 
evening. A happier group of dogs passed out 
of the park entrance to go their different ways. 
No haughty airs were assumed by the blue 
bloods. All were interested in one theme, a 
common interest—the paying of a court fine, 
which makes all kin. 

So used were the dogs in the beautiful homes 
on that exclusive street to having everything 
done for them that they had become mere 
puppets, and it required considerable effort for 
them to do any real thinking. Most of them 
were foreign born and several had peculiar 
habits, different from those of their American 
cousins. Although their ancestors originally 
came from Europe, the latter had become true 
Americans in every sense of the word, and were 
losing their love of ease and indolence. 

Although the owners of these blue-blooded 
dogs had them registered and pedigreed, and all 


JUDGE AIREDALE 73 

that, what did they really know of their families? 
It was by mere accident that Pixie heard that 
bit of history about her great-great-grand- 
mother. Her mistress never spoke of the little 
Pom’s past, except to mention about the dog 
show in London and Pixie’s having associated 
with the nobility. Now that Pixie knew about 
her people, she was proud that she had such 
plucky forbears. 

The rest of the dogs, after hearing how Pixie 
felt about it, were anxious to know something 
about their own family histories. This story¬ 
telling campaign was going to afford them just 
the excuse they wanted to get the desired in¬ 
formation. Surely some members of their 
breed had won honors for themselves some¬ 
where or somehow. Just how or where were 
they to hear of these things? Now the chance 
was to be given, for every dog was to help every 
other dog with his story. If the shepherd dog 
knew of a good story about a bull dog, he was 
to tell it; but it must be such a story as the bull 
would be pleased to know. Then, if the bull 


74 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


dog knew anything that would add to the 
happiness of the shepherd, he in turn would 
make it known. 

Satisfied with this arrangement, the dogs 
went diligently to work unearthing stories. 

It was early, and the Judge was on his bench 
under a tree at the far corner of the park. It 
was a quiet place where the children, who were 
playing in the sand piles or swinging, would 
not disturb them. The Judge, not needing an 
attendant, was allowed to roam at will. The 
others would have to wait to be brought, except, 
of course, the middle-class dogs, who would 
presently come romping in. 

Had the respective owners of the dogs on the 
beautiful street been aware of what was taking 
place, in all probability they would have tried 
to buy the Judge off; but this one was not that 
kind of a judge. His belonging to their set 
would not have influenced him in the least. 
Back in his own family history were some 
sterling qualities, chief of which was honesty, 
that had descended to this offspring, and these. 


JUDGE AIREDALE 75 

as well as other admirable traits, were manifest 
in all of his dealings. 

The dogs were assembled at last, even Pixie, 
who was seen trotting along beside the Airedale 
pup. The police dog was keeping order and 
seating the class. When the gavel, which was 
his left paw, fell, everything was ready. 


PETITE AND BOB TELL THEIR STORIES 

Petite’s Story 

The white poodle told her story in a winsome 
way. One of her sisters had attended the 
wedding of one of the nobility in France. The 
bride was so fond of her little pet that she 
wanted the poodle with her on this, the happiest 
day of her life. 

The tiny poodle was bathed and combed until 
she looked like a fluff of cotton. Around her 
neck a pink ribbon was tied and arranged in 
a smart bow between her ears. She behaved 
beautifully, never stepping on the bride’s train, 
nor did she blush as the groom did. She made 
only one little break. 

After the ceremony, when the groom kissed 
the bride, she let out one little growl, which 
she could never refrain from doing when this 
occurred. For her nice behavior, she was given 
a piece of the bride’s cake to put under her 
pillow to sleep on. 


76 


PETITE AND BOB TELL THEIR STORIES 77 

As she was a very smart poodle in many 
ways, she seemed to understand everything that 
was said to her, and she answered one and all 
with the tail language. This is the accepted 
lingo of such favored dogs, especially as they 
have such fine, feathery tails, that show to ad¬ 
vantage when waved in a wig-wag message. 

When the poodle was asked if she wanted to 
go walking, she would hop onto a chair, and 
look toward the place where her leash was kept 
and wait for her mistress to put it on her neck. 
As soon as it was put on, she would jump 
down from the chair, run to the door and wag 
her tail, as if to say she was ready. 

On the street, she would walk along beside 
her mistress in a nice way, never running on 
ahead nor pulling on the leash, as do some 
rude dogs. 

Petite was exceedingly proud because she be¬ 
longed to such a fine breed of dogs; she waved 
her beautiful tail in acknowledgment of the 
applause which was given her. 


78 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


Bob’s Story 

Judge required even his own son to relate a 
story, in punishment for his rudeness in barking 
that terrible bass solo at Pixie, which a well 
mannered dog should not have done. The 
father had had Bob rehearse just what he would 
say, to make certain that nothing in regard to 
the family skeleton would be disclosed, although 
almost every family has some such secret to 
guard. However, Judge thought it best to be 
on the safe side in regard to theirs. 

Right now I will tell you what this great 
secret was, but it must go no further. Some 
ancestor of Judge’s was killed for slaughtering 
sheep. That was about the most disgraceful 
thing of which a dog could be guilty—to be 
called a kill-sheep dog! Of course younger 
generations had done honor to the Airedale 
name, and nobody would hold them responsible 
for what had occurred in their family so long 
ago. Still, they seldom mentioned it among 
themselves, and never, never, to outsiders. 









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The Comical Young Airedale Terrier 











































80 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


Bob was inclined to be boastful, and was 
more than anxious to square himself with the 
little Pom. After asking his father many 
questions in regard to their family history, he 
finally succeeded in ferreting out some very in¬ 
teresting facts. 

The Airedale family are noted for their 
ability to look after their own welfare, and as 
guards for children and for property liable to 
be invaded by burglars. They are not beauti¬ 
ful, but what is of far more value, they are 
useful. As they are partly Irish, they have a 
sense of humor and do many comical things. 

As an instance of the cleverness and hmnor 
of the Airedale terrier, one that was young liked 
to dig holes in his master’s front lawn. He had 
been repeatedly punished for this naughtiness. 
Yet whenever he saw the tracks of a ground 
mole, he would forget everything and start 
digging until he had made another large hole. 
Then he would stop and look at what he had 
done. Feeling guilty, he would run to the 
porch, where there was a large door mat. This 


PETITE AND BOB TELL THEIR STORIES 81 

he would drag to the place and cover the hole. 
Satisfied that his guilt was hidden, he would 
run off to play. 

Another of Bob’s stories was about a clever 
dog named King who took care of a baby. 


King 

King and Junior, a baby boy, were devoted 
pals. When Junior was in his pen on the lawn, 
King would take his place as guard and master 
of ceremonies. While the baby was good. 
King would lie quietly by, with one eye always 
on the child. If the baby got tired and fretted. 
King would jump up, nm around the pen and 
bark to attract Junior’s attention, and would 
keep it up until the baby would smile. 

One day when Junior’s teeth were hurting, 
he was unusually fretful. King did his stunts 
in vain. Seeing that he must try some other 
way to comfort his pal, he stood in thought 
for a moment. Then he bounded off down 
the street to a place where another family with 


82 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


children lived. Presently he came dashing back 
with a woolly dog in his mouth, which he 
dropped into Junior’s pen, much to the delight 
of the crying youngster. 

Bob also told another story about a dog 
who was fond of scrambled eggs. 


Scrambled Eggs 

Snappy was a small Irish terrier who was 
fond of scrambled eggs. As his owners were 
obliged to buy their eggs at a good price, 
he did not get one as often as he would have 
liked. So he would go to the back of the lot 
and lie there until he heard a neighbor’s hen 
cackle. Immediately he would crawl through 
a hole in the fence, and presently return with 
an egg in his mouth. He would carry the egg 
to the kitchen, lay it very carefully on the floor, 
and wait patiently by it until some one had 
time to cook it for him. No objections were 
made, as the neighbor thought this was so 
clever of him. 


POLICE DOG STORIES 

All were eager to hear what the German police 
dog would have to tell, as they knew he must 
have been able to gather from his grandparents 
some thrilling tales, because they went through 
the war and were at the very center of activities. 
However, he was unable to get many of the 
facts from them, as their experiences had been 
so painful that they had come to America to 
recover and to forget about them. 

One member of the family, however, had been 
cited for bravery, and they loved to sing the 
praises of poor old “Marne,” of whom they 
told the story. All of the dogs wept upon 
hearing about this war hero. After their eyes 
were dry, they asked for another story from 
the police dog. This time it was a detective 
story, with old Tip as the hero. 

The police dog was a born story-teller, and 
his contact with so many different kinds of dogs 
and men had given him a store of knowledge 
far beyond his years. So he was. applauded 
83 


84 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


until he responded with a narrative about one 
of his own country’s species, Fritz, who was 
German through and through. 

After this story, the police dog, who had 
consumed all of the time at this session, was 
excused and relieved of any more punishment. 
The Judge was pleased with his conduct through 
it all. 

Marne, the War Hero 

It is a long reach from the battlefields of 
France to the fashionable dog show at a notable 
hotel in southern California, but one of the 
veterans of the World War made it. With sad 
and solemn eyes, he viewed the scene around 
him, reminding one of those old men who turn 
up from retirement to march or to be driven in 
the parades at the reunions of the Grand Army 
of the Republic, aged and worn, so far as looks 
go, but with dear old souls washed white with 
deeds of bravery. 

Thus it was with our war hero, who, sur¬ 
rounded by yelping, barking blue-bloods, was 


POLICE DOG STORIES 85 

“sitting in” at the dog exhibit, not “listening 
in,” for he was almost deaf from his injuries 
received on the battlefield. 

Marne was an ambulance dog who served 
with gallantry throughout the recent war. He 
came through, and was accepted and decorated 
by the French government for bravery, but for 
his glory he paid a dear price. He had been 
gassed. This, as many who served in the war 
can testify, takes something out of the very soul 
of a man. It had the same effect on Marne, 
who at ten years of age was an old dog. 

He was lying silent and dignified among the 
other entries, but with an accumulation of wis¬ 
dom impossible to any of the pedigreed dogs 
about him. 

When he was only three months old, this 
heroic dog was given to the French government. 
After six months’ training, he was sent to the 
battlefields to find the dead and wounded. 
From these trips into “No Man’s Land,” he 
would come back with either a button or a 
stone on his stretcher. A button meant a 


86 PETER MAKES GOOD 

wounded man, and a stone bore mute testi¬ 
mony of one having “gone west.” 

Both the British and the French are under 
obligations to faithful dogs for service on the 
fields of battle. If these dear, brave dogs could 
talk, what stories they would tell! 

Thanks to the gentle heart of a dear lady 
who appreciates real worth and brave deeds 
above mere good breeding in a dog, Marne has 
been given a pleasant home, and his wounds 
that have never healed are given proper care. 
Though there is a far-away look in his eyes, 
and he has the appearance of one who has known 
sorrow which he cannot forget, this dear old 
comrade seems contented. 

Old Tip 

Tip was not much of a dog, so far as looks 
go—never had been, even in his young doghood 
days. There was too much of just ordinary 
dog in his ancestry. He was part hound, which 
gave him those floppy, big ears and that long, 
lean body. His tail, which was not long 


POLICE DOG STORIES 


87 


enough for a real, honest-to-goodness hound to 
have, was somewhat like that of his grand¬ 
mother, who was a mongrel with some shep¬ 
herd blood. From this tail Tip acquired his 
name, for on the end of it was a white tip. The 
rest of his body was brown, shading into yellow, 
which, had he been of more aristocratic lineage, 
would have been golden brown. 

Fate often picks just ordinary men in the 
lowly walks of life for the laurels. Such was 
the case with Tip, who was no longer young, 
and moreover was afflicted with rheumatism, 
caused by his having no suitable place to sleep 
on cold, dark nights. He was chosen in his 
old days to perform the crowning act of his life 
and to become a hero. 

The old corncrib with the leaky roof was 
Tip’s bedroom. He had only one old grain 
sack to lie upon. On one of those cold, rainy 
nights in November, it happened. It was just 
the time of year when every farmer’s wife is 
counting on returns for her summer’s work, 
through the marketing of her nice, fat poultry; 


88 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


and it was also the season when poultry thieves 
thrive and are busy plying their unlawful busi¬ 
ness. 

Tip had only that evening helped his mistress 
round up every stray fowl on the place, and she 
had shut them securely in the chicken house, 
to be ready for the buyer who was due in the 
morning to purchase the fat hens and turkeys. 
Tip had inspected the premises for the last 
time. Then, considering it safe to do so, he 
had turned around twice, as is the habit of all 
dogs, and laid down to sleep. 

After his first nap, he awoke. Did he hear 
or scent something? Not yet really wide 
awake, he sat up, flapping back his big ears in 
order to hear more clearly. Surely that sound 
was something worth giving attention to. He 
would investigate. Stretching his long body 
to awaken it fully, he looked out, and what he 
saw was a small light on the end of something 
that looked, to him, like a stick. It was up 
against the poultry house door. 

Now, as I told you. Tip was old and had 


POLICE DOG STORIES 


89 


gained wisdom with years. A younger dog 
would have been more rash; but not Tip. He 
was cautious. Slipping around the comer, he 
waited to see what would happen. Soon he 
saw the door open and two men enter the 
poultry house. Now was his chance for action. 
Bounding behind the door, he slammed it shut. 
As he did so, the bolt slipped into place and, 
as the key, which had been left in the keyhole, 
fell out at the same time, he had his prisoners 
secure. Then he did some lusty barking. Such 
whoops of “bow-wow!” such howls did he set 
up, that in a short time he had the family 
aroused. 

This action of his was the means of breaking 
up an organized band of poultry thieves in that 
neighborhood; and this feat also earned poor 
old Tip his laurels. 


FRITZ, WHO KNEW ONLY GERMAN 

(As Told in the Presence of the Police Dog by a Lady) 

Once when I was motoring through the mid¬ 
dle states with my husband, who had dealings 
with the farmers of that part of the country, we 
drew up to the door of a German-American 
farmer, who, on seeing us, came out to ask what 
was our business. As he did so, out bounded 
the biggest piece of dog flesh I had ever seen. 
At first I thought it was a calf, but when a huge 
mouth' opened and let out a “bow-wow,” I saw 
it was an immense Dane. On the dog came, 
ready, it seemed, to tear us to pieces; but the 
farmer caught him by the collar and, talking 
to him in German, led him back into the house. 

As it was a cold, wintry day, the farmer 
asked me to go inside where it was warm. Wish¬ 
ing to do so, but still remembering that dog, I 
hesitated. The man insisted, saying his wife 
would take care of me. I went. 

These people, like many of their kind, live most 
of their cold weather days in the kitchen, where 

90 


FRITZ, WHO KNEW ONLY GERMAN 91 

they can cook and keep warm at the same time. 
Their cookstove was an old fashioned wood one. 
The oven, when not used for baking pies and 
bread, or thawing out the men’s feet, was piled 
full of wood to dry for fuel; I learned that it 
was Fritz who supplied the wood for the drying 
process. 

I entered and was invited by the wife to take 
a seat near the stove. I did so, looking around 
to see where the Dane might be. I spied him 
behind the stove, pretending to sleep. Soon 
the stove needed more wood. The wife took 
some from the oven and replenished the fire. 
Fritz got up, came around and looked inside 
the oven to see how much was left. As he was 
quite near me at the time, I spoke to him and 
attempted to pet him. The look he gave me 
was discouraging, but he turned to his mistress, 
as though inquiring what was wanted of him. 
She spoke to him in German. Turning around, 
he wagged his tail, and gave me a genuine dog 
smile, before returning to his place behind the 
stove to finish his nap. 



Fritz Supplied the Wood for the Fire 







































FRITZ, WHO KNEW ONLY GERMAN 93 

Presently the two men came in. The farmer 
took more wood from the oven. Fritz was 
watching the oven with evident concern; at 
last, when only a few sticks were left, he ran to 
the door, and with his paw unlatched and 
opened it. Soon he returned with a stick of 
wood in his jaws. He laid it down by the 
stove, and repeated the process until the little 
old oven was full again. This done, he went 
across to the cupboard, sat down, and barked 
until he was served with a lunch. His owners 
explained that they talked to him only in 
German, although they spoke very good 
English; and they added that no amount of 
money would induce them to part with him. 

Ted the Water Spaniel 

Next on the docket was Ted, the water 
spaniel. When Ted was called to jury duty, 
he gave his occupation as “mascot.” He had 
sailed the seas, having gone on a cruise around 
the world on a big battleship. When not on 
mascot duty, he was engaged in catching rats 


94 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


that infested the ship’s hold. He was an excel¬ 
lent sailor and loved the water. The crew, all 
of whom were fond of him, enjoyed teaching 
him many clever tricks. 

He was a good sport and would allow the 
men to throw him into the water, which they 
did just for the fun of seeing him swim back to 
them. Also, he was a most comical looking 
animal when he was wet. He would dive for 
an egg in ten or twelve feet of water; and would 
pick a piece of money from a pail of water. 

There was not a lazy bone in his body. He 
was always up to something. It was a laugh¬ 
able sight to see him, with his long ears and 
topknot, sitting up on his haunches to beg for 
what he wanted. When he was asked what 
he would do for his country, he would salute the 
flag and play dead. Many other interesting 
stunts he did to entertain the sailors and the 
officers of the big ship. 

When the great guns boomed, he would hide 
and stay hidden until all the smoke had cleared 
away, when he would come cautiously out from 



Ted Performed Many Stunts to Entertain the Sailors 























96 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


his place of concealment, looking as if he were 
asking, “Is it all over?” 

Of his ancestral history, he knew nothing 
whatever, as he was picked up from the street 
in Liverpool by a sailor. Ever since he had 
followed the sea; but now he was retired and 
living a quiet life. Though he missed the com¬ 
panionship of the sailors and the wide ocean, 
he was happy when he could be taken to the 
beaches. At other times, he bathed in the 
fountains, which he was doing on the day when 
Princess met him. 

The next story, which he related, was one 
he had heard some one telling his mistress. 

Blood Will Tell 

My friends lived on a farm, which was situ¬ 
ated in that part of the country where storms 
and floods were frequent. A stream, quite a 
small river, in fact, divided their land, the house 
being on one side of the stream and the pasture 
lands on the other. The connecting link was a 
bridge over the stream. 


97 


FRITZ, WHO KNEW ONLY GERMAN 

On one occasion, after a heavy storm, this 
stream was swollen beyond its banks. It be¬ 
came a seething, rushing torrent, carrying the 
bridges away, leaving no way, except to make 
a detour of five miles, by which the cows could 
come from the pasture to the barn. A council 
was held, and ways and means were discussed. 
The question was, how were they to get those 
milkers across to the other side? Everyone 
had some suggestion. Their little mongrel dog, 
\vithin whose veins flowed a strain of water 
spaniel, sat blinking his eyes, and holding his 
own council. 

When the family had given up in despair 
and returned to the house, the dog swam across 
to the pasture. He rounded up the herd and, 
driving them before him, swam the stream again, 
keeping the cows ahead of him until they were 
safe on the other side. Every day he repeated 
this performance until the bridge was built. 

The water spaniel recollected another story 
about a dog named Prince. This one he had 
heard a gentleman telling his owner. 


98 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


Prince Helps His Master to Get a Job 

The actions of this smart little dog show that 
dogs often display a degree of reason. 

A young man was searching for a position. 
He was unsuccessful in finding the one suited 
to his qualifications. He returned home, tired 
and discouraged, and threw himself on a couch 
to rest. His small dog Prince saw with an 
understanding eye that something was worry¬ 
ing his master. He went off to his own corner 
in the lower part of the house, where the tele¬ 
phone was located, but he did not go to sleep 
as did his master. He had to think things 
over as to the cause of his master’s troubles. 

Presently the telephone rang. Prince bounded 
upstairs, two steps at a time, barking lustily 
all the way. He pulled at the young man’s 
coat to awaken him, and told him as best he 
could to answer the phone. His master did so, 
with the result that he learned that a good 
position was open to him—a place of trust with 
a good firm—which he readily accepted. 


GYP, THE GARBAGE MAN’S DOG 

Gyp, the garbage man’s dog, was next. He 
was somewhat sullen, having seen life on its 
seamy side, and he was as full of experiences as 
an egg is of meat. 

As has been previously related, he disliked 
all phases of the law, and wasn’t enjoying this 
court scene very much. However, a few more 
experiences would make little difference in his 
checkered life. 

When he gave his name and address, he was 
asked if he had ever been in court before, to which 
he made the humiliating reply that he had, 
though he was not to blame for it. As Judges 
in general do not care to listen to excuses about 
the past, there was no chance for an explanation. 
Because this was not his first offense, and be¬ 
cause he came from the lower ranks of life, 
although he had good blood; for he was a shep¬ 
herd dog, and shepherd dogs are related to the 
great collie family, aristocrats in dogdom. But 
poor Gyp, being seen daily under the garbage 
99 


100 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


wagon, was looked upon as a suspicious char¬ 
acter. 

Now Gyp was not deserving of this opinion 
from any one. He was as honest and faithful 
as any of them. More temptation had been 
thrown in his way, and he had been able to 
withstand it better than some weaker ones. He 
would not lie, would not steal nor cheat. But 
he would fight. And it was due to this failing 
that he had a story to tell. We will leave it 
to you, dear reader, to decide if he was not 
justified at least in this one case. 

Gyp said he hoped that all dogs were now 
taking this course in “higher standards of liv¬ 
ing.” If they did, there might be no further 
occasion for his having to use his implements 
of warfare. Nevertheless, he would keep his 
teeth in good condition, and his claws well 
whetted. In fact, he thought preparedness was 
the best policy for all dogs. They need not 
actually fight, but just threaten to scrap if other 
dogs disregarded their rights. 

His story was a thrilling one about mistaken 


GYP, THE GARBAGE MAN'S DOG 101 

identity, and the innocent having to suffer for 
the sins of others. His master was his idol. 
For him, Gyp would die if necessary. Neither 
he nor his master had always been just what 
they were now, for both had seen better times. 

One dark night a crime was committed. Gyp’s 
master, though not guilty, was caught in the 
meshes of the police dragnet instead of the real 
culprit, and he was taken to jail to await trial 
for the crime some one else had committed. 

When he failed to return in the morning. 
Gyp started out to find him. Taking up the 
trail, he found it led to the jail. Of course he 
was not allowed in the building, but he hung 
around, leaving only at night and when he was 
hungry. At night he had to return home to 
keep watch over the little boy and his mother. 
It was his job to take care of them, now that 
his master was gone. 

Gyp had a double responsibility. The wife 
and little boy must be protected, and he must 
be on hand at the jail should a need come for 
him there. With all of this worry, he was 


102 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


growing very thin. Also he did not have 
enough to eat, for not many luxuries in the way 
of meat were brought into the little home now, 
and he was too busy just watching, to hunt for 
stray bones and things like that. 

At last the day of the trial came, and his 
master was taken from the jail across the court¬ 
yard to the room where the hearing was to be 
held. That was Gyp’s opportunity. Following the 
crowd into the court room, he slipped in before 
any one knew he was there. Waiting his chance, 
he edged his way to where his master was and 
lay down at his feet. He was hoping he would 
be allowed to stay right through to the end; 
but he was disappointed, for hardly had he 
settled himself when some one took hold of his 
collar and roughly dragged him out, giving him 
a kick. Just who was the dumb brute in this 
case? That was the last he saw of his beloved 
master for some time. Do you wonder Gyp 
did not like courts and trials? 

He returned home, for now he must devote 
his whole time to the family. The little boy 


GYP, THE GARBAGE MAN’S DOG 103 

must be protected when he went to the corner 
grocery. Gyp would not permit another dog 
to come near the child. It was at this time that 
the dog’s fighting blood rose. He would go 
ahead of the boy when he was crossing the 
street, and the kindly traffic officer, being their 
friend, would hold back the crowd until they 
were over. 

One day, after having piloted his little charge 
safely home, Gyp took a walk down the street 
past some fine houses where a small dog was 
lying on a nice lawn. He saw a big hound dog 
come from another direction and go up to the 
small dog, sniffing and mumbling a war-growl. 
Gyp stopped to see what would happen. 
Presently something that gave offense to the 
small dog passed between the two, and he set 
his teeth in the left hind leg of the big dog. 
Then the trouble started. Seeing the small dog 
was getting the worst of it. Gyp entered the 
fray, letting the little fellow out of it, and he 
and the hound rolled over and over on those 
fine flower beds. 


104 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


The ladies who lived in the house were scream¬ 
ing over the phone to police headquarters. But 
in their nervousness they succeeded only in mak¬ 
ing the chief believe some one was being killed. 
At once that official dispatched the police wagon. 
It came, bringing along with the police a news¬ 
paper reporter who wanted to get first news 
for his paper. All were disappointed. As the 
hound had sneaked off, Gyp was left to bear 
the entire blame. The police summoned the 
dog catcher. 

The only protector of the little family around 
the corner was about to be taken away, when 
who should appear but the friendly traffic officer, 
who knew Gyp and came to his rescue. He 
testified to the dog’s good character and vouched 
for his keeping the peace. After being patted 
on the head and admonished by his friend “to 
be a good dog,” Gyp was allowed to go back to 
his post of duty—watching the little family. 

Time dragged around to Christmas. Then 
the governor learned that a mistake had been 
made in the case of Gjrp’s master. The master 


GYP, THE GARBAGE MAN’S DOG 105 

was released from prison and permitted to go 
home. 

It was a joyous holiday for them all. The 
judge who had tried the case, desiring to make 
amends for the error, offered to help the good 
master to get work in the city’s garbage dis¬ 
posal division. But the poor fellow was so 
humiliated, and his health so broken, that he 
decided to go to a warmer climate, where he 
could be out in the sunshine and regain his 
strength. 

The judge, feeling that an injustice had been 
done the man, wrote to the mayor of this 
southern town where Gyp and his master Mad 
gone. This recommendation caused the master 
to be put on the pay roll, so the faithful dog 
and his beloved owner were now partners in 
this business of gathering the waste of the city. 

It was through those friendly little dachs¬ 
hunds that Gyp had become involved in this 
mess. Now, however, there seemed to be a 
better feeling established among all of them, 
and the story which Gyp told them had the 


106 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


effect of enlisting their sympathy and admira¬ 
tion, so that things looked brighter for him. 

Presently Gyp was not “only the garbage 
man’s dog.” He was counted a real hero by the 
better class of dogs, and if they were free to 
follow their own natural inclinations, they would 
be real friendly with him; but there were their 
owners to contend with, and for their amuse¬ 
ment, they would, they supposed, have to go 
on suppressing their good impulses. At any 
rate, all of them promised themselves that they 
would speak to Gyp when no one was watching 
them. Yes, they would even go out to the 
garbage wagon when they could, and they would 
not feel “uppish” toward him any more. 


THE LAUNDRESS’S DOG 

The laundress’s dog was, as everyone said, 
just a yellow dog. But he was one of those 
creatures whose “ysUow” was all on the outside 
—there were no yellow streaks under his skin. 
Being just plain dog has a significance all its 
own, as, in order to be any kind of a dog, one 
must have forefathers. It is highly probable 
that some of those ancestors were worth while 
in the case of this dog, and had handed down to 
their offspring some good traits. 

Mandy, the colored laundress, had found him 
one morning, when she was on her way to work. 
He was a little fellow then, and he was cold and 
hungry. They lived in the state of Texas where 
the cotton grows. No doubt, the pup had 
started to follow some worker to the fields and 
became lost. When Mandy coaxed him to 
follow her, he did not hesitate, especially as her 
clothing was scented with breakfast bacon. 

Together they had lived ever since, with Sam, 
Mandy’s husband. Now, Sam had ambitions 
107 


108 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


above being always a cotton field hand. He 
had heard there were better chances for colored 
people in the north. Tales of wealth accu¬ 
mulated by chauffeurs and waiters with nice, fat 
tips, had filtered through to the cotton field 
workers, and they were leaving as fast as the 
price of a Ford car could be saved. Mandy 
helped by going out as many days as she could 
spare from her home and church duties, as she 
was a very devoted church worker. 

Buff, as Mandy called him, on account of his 
pale yellow color, had fallen into a good home. 
With Sam’s ambitions and Mandy’s piety, 
things ran smoothly in this home. 

Having purchased a car, they loaded into it 
everything it would hold, and started north. 
Buff’s quarters were close, but he managed to 
be comfortable. It was better any way than 
riding on the running board. The chickens 
were riding there, while, on the other side, the 
family goat was enthroned. Sam was a good 
provider and his family were never in want of 
something to eat. 


THE LAUNDRESS’S DOG 109 

Having at last become fairly settled in their 
new home, Mandy and Buff would go out to 
work several days each week. One of the houses 
where they worked was the Judge’s, so Buff 
was quite well known to the Airedales. 

Buff’s story, while not dealing with his an¬ 
cestors, was interesting. He knew many stories 
about clever dogs, with whom he was acquainted, 
and he had done some fine things himself; but, 
being a modest dog, and having always been 
looked down upon in the south, where he came 
from, he was known only as Sam’s and Mandy’s 
“yaller cur.” All of this was depressing and 
made him self-conscious and bashful. 

The Judge, understanding how poor Buff felt, 
drew him out to talk about himself. Buff, 
too, had his ambitions, it appeared. Always 
he had desired to be a hunter. How he had 
longed to accompany Sam and his neighbors 
on their coon hunting trips! But Sam would 
not permit it. Buff was too small. It took 
husky dogs, like the hounds, with their big, 
floppy ears. Buff must remain at home. 


110 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


Lying in front of the fire, he would stretch 
out, fall asleep and dream. His body would 
tremble; the muscles of his legs would twitch; 
he would prick up his ears, and go through all 
kinds of contortions. Then, jumping up, he 
would run out of the house, and bark in answer 
to the baying of the hounds, miles away. Back 
he would come and lie down, with a satisfied 
look at Mandy, as much as to say, “We got 
him!” This was as near as he ever came to 
having his ambition gratified. 

The Judge requested Buff to tell about the 
time little Simon Peter, who lived next door to 
Sam and Mandy, fell in the water. So em¬ 
barrassed was Buff at having to face all these 
eager eyes and lolling tongues, that he stood 
first on one foot, then on another. In his 
modesty, he made as little as possible of the 
part he had taken in the affair. 

Simon Peter was a little pickaninny, who 
would lay his woolly head on the sleeping dog 
and take his afternoon nap. One day, Simon 
Peter’s mammy was washing, as she too was a 







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112 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


laundress, but of the home-loving variety. The 
pickaninny loved wash day. He and Buff were 
left in the kitchen, where the laundry work was 
done, while his ma mm y hung out the clothes. 
It gave him an opportunity to get into lots of 
things which otherwise would be forbidden. 

On this particular day, his mother had 
stopped to hold a bit of conversation with Sister 
White, who lived at the back of their lot. There 
were some matters concerning a church festival 
of which she must know the particulars. 

In the house the little brown baby and the 
yellow dog were having a happy time. With 
a dilapidated looking Teddy bear in his arms, 
Shnon Peter was investigating everything. 
Among other things which the laundress had 
been using, was a candy pail. In it was some 
water. It was clean water, for, when Simon 
Peter looked into it, he saw a baby and a Teddy 
bear. Reaching for the bear, he lost his balance. 

Just then Buff, who was busy gnawing a 
bone, looked up and saw a pair of chubby 
brown legs sticking up out of the pail. Sensing 


THE LAUNDRESS’S DOG 113 

what had happened, he climbed up on the side 
of the pail, and, adding his weight to that of 
the baby, managed to tip the bucket over, and 
the pickaninny crawled out. 

Buff then ran to where the two “sisters” were 
in the depth of a discussion about church 
matters, and commenced jumping up and down, 
and running back and forth to attract their 
attention. Sister White took notice and in¬ 
quired, “What’s the matter with that fool dog?” 
Simon Peter’s mammy took the hint. Run¬ 
ning to the house, she found her little brown 
baby sitting in a puddle of water, and she saw 
that he was dripping wet. 

This was such a good story the dogs wanted 
another from Buff, and he promised that at the 
next session he would tell them about Whitey, 
another mongrel of his acquaintance. So when 
the time came he told his second story. 



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Whitey and Her Mistress 








































































THE DEVOTION OF WHITEY 

Whitey was only a mongrel, a cross between 
a spitz dog and an English bull. 

We can imagine that Whitey had inherited 
from her gentle, affectionate spitz mother, the 
devotion which this occasion brought into play. 
This trait, coupled with the persistence and 
tenacity of her English bull father, enabled her 
to enact the part she did. 

Whitey’s mistress, who was getting along in 
years, was alone in the world, having only her 
faithful dog for company. So the two became 
devoted to each other. When the little old 
lady went out on errands, Whitey guarded her 
most carefully. 

One day the sun was very hot and the old 
lady seemed more unsteady than usual. Whitey, 
looking at her mistress, noticed that she was 
very pale. Then she saw her mistress sway 
and fall. The dog was frightened and barked 
furiously. Seeing a policeman down the street, 
115 


116 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


she ran barking to him, and then back to her 
fainting mistress. 

Understanding what had occurred, the officer 
called an ambulance and started with the little 
old lady to the hospital. Whitey, who was no 
longer young herself, gathered herself together. 
She was not invited to ride in the ambulance 
with her mistress. As a matter of fact, no one 
noticed the anxious, woe-begone little mongrel. 
So there was nothing for her to do but follow 
the ambulance. 

As it threaded its way in and out, shriek¬ 
ing and making ear-splitting, frightful noises, 
Whitey followed. Dodging the traffic as best 
she could, and dreadfully tired, she followed her 
mistress to she knew not where. 

Arriving shortly after her mistress was carried 
into the hospital, Whitey stood at the door, 
sniffing and barking. Finally she heard some 
one coming out of that door. This was her 
chance. In she sprang, nearly tripping up the 
big policeman, but getting in where her beloved 
mistress was. Yelping joyously, she wagged 


THE DEVOTION OF WHITEY 117 

her tail with satisfaction. Her happiness was 
short-lived, however, for, in an instant a rough 
hand had her by the back of the neck and 
yanked her out to the street. 

Then the English bull portion of Whitey 
manifested itself. Such scratching and claw¬ 
ing as she did at that door! She begged, she 
entreated to be admitted, until, finally, she was 
allowed to go in. All afternoon, she lay on the 
foot of her mistress’s cot, looking her sympathy 
and love, and hoping she would soon help to 
take the dear mistress back to their home, 
where they would again be happy. And in¬ 
deed it was not long before this hope was ful¬ 
filled. 


THE RUSSIAN PRINCESS 

Princess, having been “over” only a short 
time, and being unaccustomed to American 
ways, could tell only of her far-away Russia. 

Her story was so sad that all were glad it 
was not a long one. They hoped that after 
she had been longer in our beautiful America, 
she would be able to forget those dark days of 
her own country. They hoped too that Russia, 
where these graceful hounds live, would see 
better times, and that no more cruel wars would 
wreck her government. 

Princess was made acquainted with all the 
dogs in the park. Each in turn gave her a 
welcoming sniff, and assured her they would 
try to make it pleasant for her, so she would 
forget the tragedies of her native land. 

She became a noted figure when led along the 
paths in the park. No one could look at her 
without their minds reverting to that terrible 
war and those helpless princesses of Russia, 
118 


THE RUSSIAN PRINCESS 119 

and the brave women who took up arms against 
their enemies during the reign of terror. 

The story Princess told was one she had heard 
in England. When she was a puppy, she was 
taken by an English sailor, who was returning 
home from the far East. At the kennel where 
she was finally left, she looked more like a young 
sheep than a dog. With her long legs, long 
tail, long head, small ears, and soft, silky coat, 
she was entirely unlike such dogs as Pixie or 
Ruby. 

At the English kennels, which belonged to 
some of the nobility, she was well cared for. 
They were reluctant to part with her, but being 
in straitened circumstances since the war, they 
needed all the money they could get. So, when 
her present owners were traveling in that coun¬ 
try and offered a good price for her, she was 
allowed to come to America. That was how it 
came about that she now was telling her story 
to a group of American dogs. 

In discussing the merits of the wolfhounds to 
prospective buyers, the keeper of the kennels 


120 PETER MAKES GOOD 

would tell that Princess was related to the 
beautiful Russian hounds belonging to the Czar. 
Often, he would say, before the war, the lovely 
princesses were seen leading these graceful white 
creatures through the park around the royal 
palace at Petrograd. When the royal family 
was destroyed, these dogs were scattered to the 
four comers of the earth, as they were sold or 
carried off by marauding armies. The Prin¬ 
cess was fortunate in falling into the hands of 
the English, who are great lovers of dogs. She 
could never think of her ancestors, and of how 
fond they must have been of those sweet prin¬ 
cesses, without deep emotion; but, as there were 
no princesses in this country, she would try to 
forget. 


THE MILKMAN’S DOG DAN 

The milkman’s dog Dan was half and half, 
shepherd and collie, his father being a full-blood 
shepherd, and his beautiful mother, whom he 
did not remember, being Scotch collie. Shep, 
his father, lived all his life—and he attained a 
ripe old age—on the place where he was born 
and raised. 

Dan loved the dairy farm. The fresh, foam¬ 
ing milk that remained in the straining pails 
was always his, and the cats had all they could 
drink of it. Also there were lots of rats and 
rabbits to chase. In fact, it was an ideal place 
for a dog of his tastes to live. He knew all the 
cows by name. It was necessary only to tell 
him to bring up the cows—“all but Bess and 
Jane,” and he would do it. Starting the herd 
ahead, he would get in front of those two young 
heifers, and, separating them from the rest, 
chase them back to the woods pasture again. 

The trip into town to deliver the milk—how 
much fun he got out of that! It was no hard- 
121 


122 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


ship to be aroused from his comfortable, warm 
bed in the straw, and to have the driver say, 
'‘Come on, old boy, we are ready to start.” 

Dan would stretch himself, yawn, and in¬ 
dicate by this that he, too, was ready. He 
would sit beside the driver, and off they would 
go through the early dawn and the frosty air. 

Dan was always pleased when they delivered 
milk to houses where there were little children, 
and at the hospitals where the patients were 
waiting to have it for their breakfasts. At one 
house the driver would leave a double portion, 
because there were twin boys there. Dan hoped 
that some day he would get to see these little 
boys. Then one day something happened that 
they were delayed. It was later than usual 
when they were returning home, and, as they 
were passing by the house where the twins lived, 
Dan had his wish, for there they were, sitting 
on the lawn. Each had a bottle of milk, and 
they were drinking away as contentedly as could 
be. 

How happy Dan was to think he had helped 


THE MILKMAN’S DOG DAN 123 

in this way to furnish food for those adorable 
twins! 

They drove on down the street and passed 
the children’s hospital. There, out in the sun, 
he caught a glimpse of wheeled chairs with 
children in them. On stands beside many of 
them were glasses of milk, perhaps from Dan’s 
dairy. (At least he felt a proprietary interest 
in it.) Also at the school-lunch counters, he 
saw the children drinking milk. Then he got 
to thinking, what if he did have to work rather 
hard bringing up the cows and helping around 
the barn, wasn’t it worth while? What would 
become of all these children if he didn’t work? 

The other dogs hoped he would keep on at 
his present occupation, as most of them liked 
milk themselves. Especially were Pixie and 
Petite anxious that there should always be milk 
for making the good things of which they were 
fond. 

Few of them had ever seen the milkman’s dog 
before, as he made his trips before it was their 
hour for rising. They were eager for him to 


124 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


tell more about himself and his family, so he 
promised to tell the story of his grandfather, 
Sandy, who had been a useful and faithful mem¬ 
ber of dogdom. 

In the days of horse-drawn vehicles, some 
dogs had a foolish habit of running in front of 
every horse they saw coming, and barking at 
their heels. Of course, none of the dogs in this 
group knew anything about this bad habit. 
It was before their day. Now, Sandy despised 
this ill-mannered action, and would stop it every 
time he had a chance. The young dogs on the 
place where he lived wouldn’t have dared to do 
it. He had them trained. But some other 
dogs were not so well raised. Sitting at the 
corner where two roads crossed, he would watch, 
and, whenever a dog would start barking at a 
horse, he would go after the dog and give him 
what he deserved. 


THE WHIPPETS 


One evening, while the story-telling class was 
in session, there came into the park two men 
and two dogs. All looked tired and dusty, as 
if they had come a long way afoot. 

The men threw themselves down on the grass 
to rest. The dogs, who were different from the 
usual park types, were lean and graceful, clean- 
cut racers. They were whippets, or, as some 
call them, “snap dogs.” 

They were indeed tired and had come a long 
distance to rest. After taking a drink from the 
fountain, they too stretched out beside the men 
to take a nap. But, being unable to sleep 
after the thrilling experiences of the day, they 
started up and began investigating the park 
and the people in it. First they visited the 
different groups and watched the children at 
play. Then they wandered over to the corner 
where the dog’s court was in session. 

The whippets had just come from a country 
fair, which was being held in an adjoining 
125 


126 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


county. There, besides the horse races and 
automobile races, one of the attractions was a 
whippet race, in which they had taken part. 

They approached the court corner, and stood 
at a respectful distance until Ruby was through 
with a story she was telling about two little 
Skyes. During the applause, the whippets drew 
nearer. In making observations as to the size 
of the dogs assembled there, they noticed that 
the Judge was a much larger dog than they 
were. Also there were others there that would 
be more than a match for them should any 
unpleasantness arise. They, however, could get 
away from the others, with no danger of being 
overtaken, so swiftly could they run. 

As the Judge exhibited only the friendliest 
feelings toward them in his welcome, they joined 
the circle. This, thought the Judge, is to be 
a test of the sincerity of the desire of the dogs 
in the class “to live and let live,” and he was 
much pleased with their behavior. The good 
seed he was trying to sow was taking root, and 
they were losing some of their selfishness. 


THE WHIPPETS 


127 


The story which Ruby had just finished was 
about two little Skyes, one of whom was vain 
and jealous; so, if Ruby could realize how 
wrong it was to permit such feelings to exist 
in one’s nature, it was a good indication that 
the Judge’s plan was a good one, and they 
would all be better dogs for it. 

The dogs all agreed to have the whippets 
with them during their stay in the park. The 
Princess recognized in them distant cousins. She 
too could do some sprinting when occasion 
called for it. 

The whippets, looking the crowd over, and 
scenting nothing to eat at this picnic, concluded, 
if these other dogs could have such a gathering 
in a park without eating, there must be some¬ 
thing else very absorbing about it to hold them; 
so they decided to remain. 

When they were asked how they came to be 
racing dogs, one of them, who was less bashful 
than the other, told of their being trained when 
they were puppies for this very thing. They 
were encouraged to play tug-of-war—which all 


128 


PETER MAKES GOOD • 


little pups love to do—and they were given a 
strong piece of cloth, or a rubber shoe, and they 
would pull and pull. This strengthened their 
muscles. Then a ball was thrown for them to 
run for, and the one who returned with it was 
given something to eat. Then two balls would 
be thrown and they would race after them. The 
one who had to go the farthest was rewarded. 
As they grew larger, they were taken on long 
hikes over the fields and country roads, where 
they would chase rabbits or any game they 
could scare up. 

Later, they began racing with horses and 
bicycles, farther and farther each time, until 
they could run two hundred yards, the handicap 
distance. 

One sorry thing about being a whippet is that 
these dogs never get to eat all they would like, 
as their weight must be kept down to fourteen 
poimds, or they become too heavy to run. 

At the Fair it was advertised that the Whippet 
Brothers, famous racers, were to run and had 
challenged two other equally swift dogs for the 









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130 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


race. A large purse was made up and the 
betting became lively. The other two whippets 
were not brothers, and were unused to team 
work, but, in every other respect, they were a 
match for the brothers, being of the same weight 
and age, and having had the same training 
and all. 

The bout was set for the morning, before 
the horse racing started. The crowd gathered 
around the grand stand, from where the dogs 
were to start. Each dog had been groomed 
and sleeked and their feathery tails were combed. 
All were clean-cut, snappy little dogs, ready for 
the start. The crowd was roped off on each side 
of the track. Then, one, two, three, the gong 
sounded, and they were off. Neck and neck 
they went until halfway to the goal, when one 
of the odd dogs crossed to the center of the track 
to get a better footing. This distracted his 
running mate for one fatal second. His partner 
leaving him alone on the off side of the road 
made this dog lose his grip on himself. He, 
too, tried to change his position, but in doing 


THE WHIPPETS 


131 


SO, he' tripped and fell head on. Gathering 
himself up, he came limping after the racing 
dogs. Of course he lost out, but he was game 
to the end. The other three kept pace, on and 
on, until within a foot of the goal, when the odd 
dog shot across the line, amid the cheers and 
shouts of the onlookers. The Whippet Brothers 
lost the race, but it made no difference to them 
that their backers had lost money on them; 
they had done their best and had played a clean 
game. 

Running back to where the lame dog was, 
they both licked his sore leg and showed their 
sympathy. They were much better sports than 
their masters, who grudgingly lost to the other 
men, and took their ill will out on the dogs, 
kicking and abusing them, and, tired as they 
were, bringing them the whole distance to this 
town. 

During the description of this race, the group 
of dogs became so excited that it was all the 
police dog could do to prevent a small riot. 
The dogs who had any racing instinct in them. 


132 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


like the Princess and Gyp, could scarcely make 
their legs behave during the narration. All 
were whining and yelping, and jumping up and 
down. It was useless to think of their quieting 
down again, so they were dismissed. 

All clamored for more from the whippets, 
who, traveling as they did, knew some very 
interesting stories; and they agreed, if their 
masters remained in this place long enough, 
and if the kind-hearted dogs really desired them 
to do so, they would tell the story of two setters 
and a mastiff they knew about. 

The whippets did remain over for another 
day, and they were on hand for the next session 
of the story-telling class. They were called on 
to tell their story first. They said it was a sad 
one, and they thought it was too, bad that all 
dogs could not have the advantages of the good 
training these dogs were getting. Also, if they 
could do anything toward making the world 
better, they meant to try, always keeping their 
motto in mind. 


FIRE-FIGHTING DOGS 


Jess the Fire Company’s Dog 

Jess, who was the fire company’s dog, was 
anxious to get as many of the dogs as he 
possibly could interested in joining the “Fire 
Brigade.” Membership in this organization 
was open only to dogs who were brave enough 
to risk their lives to protect life and property 
when these were endangered by fire. 

Jess had been the first dog to join, having 
become a member by adoption of the city “Pro¬ 
tective League,” and a life member of the city 
Fire Department. Jess had a good record in 
his home town for courage, and this helped to 
establish him in this place, and at once he began 
working for the interests of the Brigade. 

He read to the dogs a report of some of the 
cases he had found among their fellow dogs, 
saying he felt encouraged that there would be 
no difficulty in enrolling a large percentage of 
the dogs. 


133 


134 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


Only that day he had heard of another case. 
A big retriever was often left in charge of a large 
home when the family was absent. He was 
never confined. He always had the range of 
the house. On this occasion the folks left early, 
to be gone all day. Not long after their de¬ 
parture, the neighbors heard the dog barking. 
Looking toward the house, they saw smoke issu¬ 
ing from the roof. The alarm was turned in, 
and soon everything was out of the house. 

But the dog refused to leave. Returning to 
the gutted house, he stationed himself on guard 
until his master came home. The smoke and 
the excitement, however, were too much for him. 
He survived the fire, the falling timbers and the 
heat, but his lungs had become so inflamed 
from the smoke that he died. 

“Such heroism,” said the Fire Brigade’s chief, 
“gets into our blood and makes all of us want 
to do something great.” 

The only requirement, in order to become a 
member of this noble order, was to report some 
act performed in prevention of fire or loss of 



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136 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


life. All of the dogs agreed to keep their eyes 
open for opportunities to do something in this 
line. 


Bill Becomes a Member 

The very next day the Boston bull had his 
chance. He belonged to a young bachelor who 
lived alone, with only his faithful dog, Bill, for 
company. Now Bill was a privileged character 
who had the run of the place, and, during the 
day, had to receive all comers. His owner was 
the best of masters, but he had one fault. He 
would smoke in bed, lighting his pipe and read¬ 
ing until he fell asleep. Bill never approved of 
this. He was always expecting something to 
happen, and himself slept with one eye open as 
long as he could. Then, one night something 
did happen. The lighted pipe fell out of the 
sleeping man’s mouth. Bill smelled smoke, 
and jumped up just in time to pull the burning 
pillow off the bed, thus saving his master’s life 
and horne. 

Bill became a member of the Fire Brigade. 


FIRE-FIGHTING DOGS 137 

The Fire Brigade 

We hear many stories of dogs being the means 
of saving property and lives in times of fire. 
They seem never to lose their heads, as it were, 
but generally do the most sensible thing under 
the circumstances. 

Here are some instances of heroic efforts on 
the part of these little benefactors, in recogni¬ 
tion of which they are being enrolled in the Fire 
Brigade. 

Lady, a German police dog, who will be the 
only member of our company of her sex, is 
entitled to first place on the list. She put out 
a fire all by herself in a most heroic manner. 
Left alone in the house, she discovered a burning 
paper under a gasoline stove. Drawing the 
fire to her, she tore the paper to bits, pawing it 
until the fire was out. In so doing she burned 
her nose and paws severely. When her mistress 
returned and sat down, the dog laid her head 
in the lap of her mistress and whined most 
pitifully with pain. Needless to say, her in¬ 
juries were carefully anointed and bandaged. 


138 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


Another member of the fire brigade won his 
honors by alarming the family when something 
from a shelf above fell down on the stove, catch¬ 
ing fire from the lighted pilot. He was alone 
in the kitchen when it happened, and ran bark¬ 
ing into the other part of the house, and then 
back to the kitchen, until he succeeded in getting 
the family to follow and put out the fire. 

The Tramp Dog 

And here is what was once a tramp dog, but 
we know he was not a tramp from choice. This 
dog did a good deed in return for a kindness 
shown him, in observance of the Golden Rule, 
which we should all remember. 

This poor dog, who was alone in the world 
and desperately hungry, saw a man come out of 
a butcher shop with a package of meat. Hunger 
had made his sense of smell so keen that even 
at a respectful distance he knew the stranger 
was a fair prospect. So the dog trotted along 
behind the man until he reached his home. 

The dog, being a tramp, knew his place was 


FIRE-FIGHTING DOGS 


139 


at the back door; so he lay there to wait until 
he should see some one come out to the garbage 
can, which soon happened. This person not 
only gave him the remains of the nice, juicy 
steak, but also spoke a kind word to him. 
Feeling that life was, after all, worth living, the 
dog decided to spend the night with these kindly 
people. During the night a fire broke out. 
The tramp, as he was called, ran to the window 
of the room where the man slept, and awakened 
him just in time to save his home. 

Needless to say, he was no longer a tramp dog. 

Small but Brave 

A lady was making a call on a neighbor next 
door, leaving her husband asleep on the bed, 
and her small dog to keep guard during her 
absence. She felt that all was secure. How¬ 
ever, she had hung some stockings over the gas 
oven to dry, leaving the gas turned on. The 
oven became very hot and set fire to the stock¬ 
ings, and the flames spread to the window cur¬ 
tains. The dog, seeing what had happened, ran 


140 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


to the bed barking, but failed to arouse his 
master. Then he caught the covers in his teeth 
and pulled them off the sleeping man, who awoke 
just in time to save their home from a bad fire. 

Duke 

A dog named Duke saved a large factory from 
being burned by giving the alarm to the watch¬ 
man. The man and the dog had just made 
the rounds and had seen that everything was all 
right. Then, after the watchman had punched 
the time clock, they left that part of the factory 
for another. The dog, who was watching every 
move that his master made, returned with him 
to the office from where they started. There 
they settled down to take a nap, until the alarm 
clock would arouse them to make the next round. 

The watchman, who was a sound sleeper, was 
soon snoring away, but not so with Duke. He 
seemed nervous and alert to every sound. In a 
few minutes he sprang up and barked loudly, 
waking his master, and ran to the door in an 
excited manner. The watchman, on going out- 



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142 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


side, saw a bright light at one corner of the 
factory. Running to this spot, he saw two men 
hurriedly leaving, with the dog in pursuit. 

He turned in the fire alarm, and when he tele¬ 
phoned to the police headquarters, what he 
heard in reply was, “Men taken. Holding your 
dog for identification.” When Duke was rein¬ 
stated at the factory, he was given a new brass- 
mounted collar. He was also given a pension 
for life for having performed this noble deed. 
This fine fellow is doubly welcome in the Fire 
Brigade. 


Jess 

In one of the smaller cities is a fire company 
that has a tawny-colored Irish setter named 
Jess, who is a great favorite with all of the men. 
Jess knows all the “ins and outs” of the fire¬ 
fighting business, and is as helpful as it is pos¬ 
sible for him to be. When there is no call for 
action, he lies contentedly in the sun waiting 
for the summons to duty. 

When an alarm is sent in, Jess is the first to 


FIRE-FIGHTING DOGS 


143 


respond. He runs first to one and then to 
another of the men, spurring them on to action 
and haste. Then he jumps into the chief’s car 
and seems to love to go tearing through the 
streets, having the right of way over everything. 
The ear-splitting screech of the siren is music to 
him. Arriving at the fire, he takes a position 
affording the best view, and where he will be the 
least hindrance to the firemen. He takes an 
intense interest in every move that is made. 

Once he entered a burning building. Going 
in by the back door, he ran up the stairs in that 
part of the building and aroused a man who was 
asleep, thereby saving his life. It was for this 
that Jess became a life member of that fire com¬ 
pany; he was serving without pay, just for the 
love of being useful. After a fire is put out, he 
rides home in triumph on the fire engine, wear¬ 
ing a fireman’s hat. Jess will be an honorary 
member of our “Fire Brigade” if everybody is 
willing. 


THE JUDGE’S STORY 


When the other dogs had finished with their 
stories, and the Judge was satisfied that they 
had done their best, he thanked them, and said 
he would now tell them some stories. First he 
would go back to his own family history, of 
which Bob was not able to tell a great deal, as 
he was young and not expected to take much 
interest in such things. 

“The Airedales are a very old and famous 
family of dogs,” proceeded the Judge. “The 
name is romantic, having originated from a 
river in Yorkshire, England, the River Aire. 
It is something to be proud of, to have a name 
suggested by a river; and then, to have a dale, 
which means a valley, attached to it. I close 
my eyes,” said the Judge, “and imagine I can 
see that beautiful green valley, with the river 
winding through it, and my ancestors living 
so peacefully there, enjoying a free and easy life, 
chasing rabbits and rascally badgers, with which 
the hills are infested. 


144 


145 


THE JUDGE’S STORY 

“It is said of the Airedales that they were 
good swimmers, and how they must have en¬ 
joyed a plunge in the River Aire on a warm day. 
They were trusty, too. Baby could be left in 
their care with safety. So many good qualities 
are seldom found in just one breed of dogs. 

“While they were not noted for their beauty, 
nor for the sweetness of their voices, their many 
other good traits make amends for that. 
Beauty, after all, is only skin deep, and if there 
are no virtues below the surface to give it luster, 
it is not even skin deep. Whatever beauty 
the Airedale dog can lay claim to, is brought 
out by his inborn cleverness. Good deeds and 
good behavior have resulted in making a really 
homely dog into a world-wide favorite.” 

While the Judge was making this modest 
claim for his clan, little Pixie hung her head and 
blushed with embarrassment to think that she 
had ever been ashamed to play with Bob, be¬ 
cause of his personal appearance. She then 
and there resolved to be more courteous to both 
Bob and his father, of whom she was becoming 


146 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


very fond, thinking him a wise judge and a 
good counsellor for all dogs. 

The Judge went on to say that it was recorded 
that one of his ancestors had won the first prize 
at a great dog show. The people of the country 
where this happened acclaimed him “King of 
the ring and King of the country.” Because of 
the fine qualities of the Airedales, he added, one 
of their number once became a member of the 
animal family at the White House, and was a 
favorite of the President of the United States 
and his lovely wife. 

“Were medals to be issued to dogs for bravery 
in saving lives, the Airedale family would have 
many souvenirs to hand down to their children. 
A noted musician tells of his dog, Buster, 
having saved his wife’s life not only once, but 
five times. 

“The almost human instinct of this tribe was 
manifested when one city was holding its elec¬ 
tion. One of the amendments to be voted on 
was the curtailing of the liberty of all dogs. To 
run at large, they must be muzzled, or they 


THE JUDGE’S STORY 147 

must be leashed when on the streets. Of course, 
all dog lovers were opposed to this measure. 
The dogs themselves, having heard so much 
discussion on the subject, seemed to sense that 
something was going to be done which con¬ 
cerned them. 

“Such remarks as these were addressed to one 
Airedale, whose name was Jerry; 

“ ‘Jerry, old pal, they are talking of interfering 
with your personal liberty, and not allowing 
you the run of the town, without a string tied 
to you. Now you must not think we are going 
to stand for any nonsense such as that. We will 
go down to the polls. Mother and all of us, and 
we’ll put this thing over strong, and show those 
dog haters a thing or two.’ 

“Jerry would look interested and try to wag 
his stiff tail, as much as to say he would like to 
do his bit to help. He had no vote, although 
there were some who had, who in his opinion 
were not deserving of it. One man he knew of 
hated dogs, and when he had something in him 
—Jerry did not know what—he was abusive to 


148 PETER MAKES GOOD 

his dog—and also to the little boy who loved 
the dog. Yet that man was one of those who 
wanted all the dogs killed or tied up, and would 
vote for that cruel measure. 

“Jerry slept over the matter, and when morn¬ 
ing came, bright and early, he was at the polls. 
Taking up a position under the table where the 
workers were, he lay down, to see that every¬ 
thing was properly carried through. There he 
stayed until it was almost certain the dogs were 
going to win, when he left, satisfied that he was 
no longer needed.” 

The Judge told the dogs they were all very 
fortunate to be living in this wonderful country, 
“where we are loved and well cared for, as there 
are many places where dogs are despised and 
mistreated, and even left to run wild, becoming 
scavengers, just because they are half starved. 
They fight and quarrel among themselves, and 
make the nights hideous with their howling. 
To be unloved and have no friends would be 
cause enough for howling. 

“Then there are the Eskimo dogs. They too 


THE JUDGE’S STORY 149 

have a hard life, as they have to draw the sledges 
and do the work that horses and automobiles 
perform in this country.. They are harnessed 
together with leather straps made from reindeer 
skin. There is also a long whip, made of thongs 
of the same leather, the lash of which is chewed 
by the women to make it pliable. Then it is 
braided to make the handle. This is lashed 
over the dogs’ backs to make them draw harder 
and go faster.” 

“How terrible!” barked all of the dogs, shrug¬ 
ging their shoulders in pity. 

“Probably their masters love these dogs, but 
this seems a strange way to show it. The people 
of that country are dependent on these faithful 
dogs, as they are the only means of transporta¬ 
tion. They have no horses, no automobiles, 
and no airships—nothing but their dogs, so 
their very existence depends on these brave 
animals. We, with our loving masters and 
mistresses, can scarcely realize how differently 
these other dogs have to live. And how much 
they must miss being loved as we are!” 


150 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


So much sympathy was expressed for the 
other kind of dog life that the Judge felt grati¬ 
fied to see that these getting-together parties 
the dogs were having were creating a good effect. 

Even little Ruby, who seldom thought of 
anyone but herself, unless it was to envy some 
one, was becoming less selfish. “Oh, the poor 
things!” she exclaimed, licking her white fore¬ 
paws while she was saying it. She gave those 
paws particular attention, and the habit was so 
strong with her that, perhaps, it didn’t lessen 
her sincerity. 

The Judge told them he thought that, as not 
many of them ever had a chance to travel, he 
would tell them a story about one dog who was 
a great traveler, and also a very clever fellow. 
This dog was a setter and his name was Jack. 


JACK THE TRAVELER 

Mr. Wheeler’s home was broken up, for Mrs. 
Wheeler had passed away, leaving no one but 
her husband, as there were no children. 

Mr.Wheeler was alone but not lonely, for he 
still had Jack, his faithful setter; and there was 
a cat, but she had been Mrs. Wheeler’s pet. 

His dog Jack was a good hunting dog, and 
hunting was his master’s favorite sport. So 
they two, having similar tastes, were on intimate 
terms, and at all times were quite congenial. 

After disposing of his little shop, Mr. Wheeler 
decided he would follow the trail to California. 
He purchased a Ford with money from the sale 
of his small stock of merchandise; he rented his 
home and, leaving the cat with the Widow 
Higgins, who lived next door, was ready to 
pack for the trip. His gun was cleaned, and 
his camping outfit made ready. All necessary 
equipment for an extended trip was gathered 
up, and a supply of provisions laid in. 

How eager Jack was about all these prepara- 
151 


152 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


tions! He felt very important, too, having 
been given to understand that he was a partner 
in this enterprise. 

Jack, being a pointer and setter, as most 
hunting dogs are, would set in the evening, 
after the day’s work was done, with his nose 
pointed toward the setting sun, while he dreamed 
of the great times they would have when they 
did finally get started. 

The cat was on hand and wanted to go along, 
it seemed. But Jack saw to it that she was 
left behind. He chased her up a tree and barked 
good-by to her. 

Dogs of this kind, although loyal friends, 
are of one-track minds. In Jack’s mind was 
just one idea, and that was to be in the game 
with his master. He had no regrets at leaving 
the old home where he was born and raised. 
The master was all that counted. Home to 
him meant only to be able to eat out of his 
master’s hand and to lie at his master’s feet. 
That the dogs he was used to playing with 
would miss him, affected him not in the least. 


153 


JACK THE TRAVELER 

Finally, Jack was perched on the seat beside 
Mr. Wheeler; the gun was handy; they were 
ready to go. Giving everything a final looking 
over, they started on their trek across the inter¬ 
vening states to California—gun, dog, man and 
pipe, all essential to each other’s happiness. 

It was about the first of October, the most 
delightful time to travel. The days were ideal. 
The trees were in their most gorgeous fall color¬ 
ings, yellows deepening into rich browns and 
tans, vivid scarlets softened to maroons; greens 
of every shade—one glorious riot of color. 

The master’s eyes took in these autumnal 
glories, but most of the time they were fixed 
straight ahead on the road, to make sure of 
good going. As for Jack, what did he care for 
nature’s color scheme? The color of a chip¬ 
munk or a Jack rabbit meant much more to him. 

There were also many other things of interest 
to look at. Of course the dogs were the chief 
attraction. Jack had not known there were so 
many kinds. He saw big dogs and little dogs 
of every description; and, wonder of wonders. 


154 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


one small dog was actually being carried along 
the street in a lady’s arms! Another was all 
dressed up, with some kind of a coat on, and a 
brass collar. Poor things, to be so hampered! 

In one town, he saw a little fluffy white thing 
coming down the street, with a ribbon bow on 
top of its head, just like the little Higgins girl 
wore. A dog dressed up like a girl! Could 
anything be worse? He tried to pat himself 
on the back, so glad was he that he was just a 
common dog. 

School was out for the noon recess as they 
passed a large school building, and Jack was 
astonished at seeing so many children. He 
didn’t care particularly for children, not having 
been raised with them. He liked to romp with 
the little Higgins boys once in a while, when 
there was nothing more interesting, such as a 
hunting trip, on hand. Those boys were good 
sports, who could throw a ball just about right 
for him to see it stop, so he could get it easily 
and take it back to them. But this noisy, 
scrapping crowd—they might be all right, but 


JACK THE TRAVELER 155 

he was glad there were none of them in his 
family. 

Now they were leaving the town and, driving 
up under some trees, they stopped for lunch. 
Eating lunch in the car with his master was a 
privilege. Not many dogs enjoyed one like it, 
but his was an exceptional master. 

Once more they were on their way, and there 
would be no more stops until camping time. 
He might as well turn around a couple of times, 
lie down, and go to sleep. After this nap, he 
felt refreshed and more alert to passing objects. 
So many automobiles, where were they all com¬ 
ing from, and where were those others all going? 
Big cars and little cars, of every make and 
description, all seemed to want to get there 
first. 

How glad Jack was that his master was in no 
hurry! In fact, Mr. Wheeler never was known 
to be in a hurry about anything. This jogging 
along just suited Jack, too, and gave him time 
to make observations that would be impossible 
if they were tearing along. In every way his 


156 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


master was a comfortable person to live with; 
he would always stick to this good master. 

Some of the other cars had dogs in them, and 
some were loaded with children. One fact that 
impressed Jack was that the larger, more com¬ 
fortable, and apparently softer cushioned cars 
contained the smallest dogs, while the poor old 
flivvers, with the floppy curtains and wheezy 
engines, seemed to carry all the tired looking 
women and children. Also, if a faithful dog 
were brought along, he was compelled to ride in 
the most uncomfortable position on the run¬ 
ning board, getting dust in his eyes and cramps 
in his legs. 

While Jack pitied these poor unfortunate 
fellows, he was thankful that such was not his 
fate. 

There was one large car that fairly dazzled 
his eyes with its shining, silver mountings. A 
negro was driving, and, as the car passed. Jack 
noticed that the only person in it was a very 
fat lady. On a silk pillow beside her was a mite 
of a dog, no larger than a skinned rat would be. 


157 


JACK THE TRAVELER 

but it was covered with a bushy coat of soft, 
silky hair, and looked like an over-grown, woolly 
worm. Jack was fond of teasing woolly worms, 
and that was why he thought of the comparison. 

They were now approaching a long stretch of 
open country, and getting further away from 
familiar scenes. The cornfields, with com in 
shocks, and yellow pumpkins strewn over the 
ground, bordered both sides of the road. Jack 
rabbits, quail and chipmunks were scampering 
in all directions, stirring Jack to a quiver of 
excitement. Wouldn’t his master stop and take 
a shot at them? 

Then, just in front of them, sitting in the 
middle of the road, with its back to the oncom¬ 
ing car, he spied a fine specimen of a jack 
rabbit. Stopping the car, Mr. Wheeler 
cautiously took aim, and up in the air went the 
cottontail. With a bounce. Jack was there to 
catch it as it came back to earth, and he brought 
it to the car. Now, they would have fresh 
meat for supper, and how hungry he was! 

They established their camp in a byroad. 


158 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


While the tent was being pitched, Jack was as 
helpful as he could be, lying on the loose ends of 
the canvas to keep the wind from blowing it 
away; at least, that was his idea of it. To be 
sure, his master said he was in the way, but 
masters are sometimes mistaken. Everything 
being set, and the rabbit browning nicely on the 
little camp stove, the smell made Jack’s mouth 
water with anticipation. 

Then, what should drive up but a rickety 
old flivver, with a tired looking, thin lady, and 
a number of hungry children along with a 
cramped-up dog! They were a sorry lot from 
“York State,” bound for the “land of sun¬ 
shine,” where the thin lady, who was really ill, 
hoped to regain her health. Jack was wishing 
they had hastened along. 

Mr. Wheeler, being a kind-hearted man, wel¬ 
comed the newcomers. As there were little 
children, and the mother looked so ill, his ready 
sympathy was aroused and he 'asked them to 
join him at his meal; and he was glad that he 
had something nourishing to offer them, in the 


159 


JACK THE TRAVELER 

way of coffee and rabbit, with plenty of bread 
and gravy for the little ones. It made him 
happy to see these hungry travelers eat until 
they were satisfied. 

Jack did not enter with his master into the 
spirit of this benevolence. Instead he grew 
sulky, as nothing had been left for him but a 
few well picked bones. Feehng that Fate had 
played him an unkind trick, he felt revengeful, 
and that he must have satisfaction from some 
source. So he proceeded to take it out on the 
stiff-jointed dog. Going to the side of the car 
where the poor fellow was lying. Jack began 
sniffling contemptuously. All of his virtuous 
feelings concerning this crowd were gone. The 
other dog assumed an indifferent air, which 
only aggravated Jack more. 

He began snapping at his victim’s heels, 
and that started it; the fight was on, which 
showed there was some spunk left in the other 
dog, even if he did not look the part. Over and 
over they rolled, snapping and snarling, and 
biting at one another. Jack, being the larger. 


160 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


seemed to be gaining on the under dog, when 
the blood of his adversary, who was part bull, 
began to boil, and grasping Jack by the neck, 
he held on with a death grip. At this turn of 
the battle, the owners of the two dogs came run¬ 
ning up. They brought with them pails of 
water, sticks, and everything at hand that could 
be used to separate the fighting canines. Each 
began by beating the other’s dog, protesting 
that if one must be killed, it must not be theirs. 

The lady brought an umbrella and helped, 
notwithstanding her weakened condition. Forc¬ 
ing the umbrella between her dog’s jaws, she 
managed to loosen his hold on Jack’s throat, 
by spreading it enough to break his grip. Jack 
then, feeling that the victory was his, retreated 
to have his wounds dressed. 

This little unpleasantness was a dampener on 
the newly formed friendship between Mr. Wheeler 
and his guests. He felt that no longer did 
he wish to continue the acquaintance of these 
people, so he asked them to move on. They 
refused, and so he decided to break camp. 



‘‘The Fight Was On” 
























162 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


Mr. Wheeler made ready to continue on his 
trip. By this time the moon had risen, and, 
as there was less traffic than during the day, he 
decided he would drive on, as he would really 
make better time by doing so. He felt de¬ 
pressed by the circumstances that had forced 
an unpleasant ending to a perfect day; but he 
had learned a lesson from these events that 
would prove valuable on the rest of the journey. 

Jack was trying to sleep on the back seat 
cushion. His back was sore; his pride was 
hurt, and, if that dog on the running board had 
been any stiffer than he felt, he hoped to know it. 

The night driving was pleasant. The roads 
were smooth, and only occasionally Mr. Wheeler 
had to pull out for a passing car. Soon his 
spirits rose and, as they went on through the 
villages, he noticed the lights were cheerful. At 
some places there was music and dancing, and 
the ring of merry laughter filled the air. 

It was after midnight when our travelers 
drove into a sheltering clump of scrubby oaks 
to spend the rest of the night. Mr. Wheeler, 


163 


JACK THE TRAVELER 

rousing Jack from off the back seat, curled up 
there himself and went to sleep. By morning, 
Jack was feeling better. Being in good health, 
he soon recovered from his skirmish with the 
strange dog. His throat was still sore, and the 
skin was torn, but it was healing nicely, and so 
was his pride. 

The next night was uneventful, so they rested 
and were refreshed. They pushed on toward 
town for breakfast. Jack was allowed to eat 
on the back porch of the restaurant, after which 
he hopped into the front seat beside his master, 
ready for more observations. 

They were now going through the prairie 
country, and they saw prairie dogs sitting on 
their haunches, looking like sentinels beside 
their homes. Jack would have liked a chance 
at one of them, to give it a good shake, but his 
wounds would not allow him to attempt it. 
Two jack rabbits were shot. Even in this 
sport, he was not feeling “peppy” enough to 
take part, although by supper time he was 
sufficiently recovered to enjoy his share of the 


164 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


good cheer. This time he got real meat. The 
bones were left, not even buried, which showed 
he was not really himself yet. 

By the time the city of Denver was reached. 
Jack was fully recovered and very alert. Mr. 
Wheeler ran the car into a garage for repairs, 
and they started out to see the sights while 
waiting. As they were near the Capitol build¬ 
ing, Mr. Wheeler thought he would like to go 
to the top, as all tourists do. Of course. Jack 
was not allowed to accompany him. An officer 
gave Jack permission to lie on the lawn and 
watch the squirrels at play. 

Though he did not feel quite right about 
going without his dog, Mr. Wheeler began the 
ascent. When he reached the topmost bal¬ 
cony, he looked down to where he had left 
Jack. Imagine his horror at seeing the dog 
chasing one of the squirrels up a tree and bark¬ 
ing his lustiest at it. He also saw an officer 
running toward Jack, and then beating him 
with a club until the dog howled louder and 
louder. Mr. Wheeler descended as fast as he 


165 


JACK THE TRAVELER 

could, which, on account of the narrowness of 
the steps, it was hard to do; and he found that 
the dog catcher had been called to take Jack 
to the pound. Nothing would do but that Mr. 
Wheeler must go along and settle with the chief. 

Jack was loaded into a cage with a lot of other 
dogs. They were all snarling and snapping, 
but at heart they were very good dogs, who 
had been guilty only of some thoughtlessness, or 
some small fault perhaps that they did not 
know was wrong. Poor Jack! 

The waiting room at the chief’s office was 
filled with irate men and women who had come 
to claim their various pets. All were sure a 
great injustice had been done; a great mistake 
had been made in taking up their dogs. 

Time dragged along for poor Jack. He 
thought he had been having trouble enough, 
since he had started on this pleasure trip, with¬ 
out this; and it all came about just because he 
was following a natural impulse, something for 
which he was in no way responsible. What a 
nuisance their old laws were, anyway! 


166 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


Finally the room cleared, and Mr. Wheeler 
had a chance to present his case, and get Jack 
released. How glad Jack was that his beloved 
master had been watching, and was able to go 
with him and help him out of his predicament! 

The next problem was how to get to the car, 
as the pound was in the outskirts of the city, 
and Jack would not be permitted to ride on the 
street car. Also it was much too far to walk. 
Something must be done quickly, for it was 
getting late. Beside the dog pound was a 
settlement of a certain class of merchants of the 
street, venders of old clothes, rags and old iron, 
necessary commodities of a sort, and there the 
horse-drawn vehicle was the mode of trans¬ 
portation. 

While Mr. Wheeler was debating in his mind 
what to do, along came one of these merchants 
driving a half-starved horse. Noticing the look 
of perplexity on Mr. Wheeler’s face, he inquired, 
“What’s the trouble. Boss?” Then a bright 
idea entered Mr. Wheeler’s head. He told the 
man of his desire to get to another part of the 


167 


JACK THE TRAVELER 

city, but that he had no way to do so, and he 
wondered if it would be possible for the merchant 
to take them. The merchant, having had a 
rather bad day in his business, consented, think¬ 
ing that here would be a way to make accounts 
balance. They did some quibbling over the 
charges, which Mr. Wheeler thought very 
“steep,” for he was asked to pay two fares for 
both of them. As he could not very well help 
himself, he agreed to the price, and they started. 
Thus they returned to their lodging. 

Next morning, after both had enjoyed a good 
breakfast, they set out on the last lap of their 
journey. Following the old Santa Fe trail, they 
found the country they were passing through 
very interesting. Jack kept his eyes open and 
his ears pricked up. 

He was attracted by the Indian villages, where 
dogs were numerous and all seemed to be living 
happy-go-lucky lives. Really they looked too 
lazy to come in out of the rain, if it ever should 
rain, which it didn’t; therefore they were deprived 
of even this exercise. 


168 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


For a long stretch nothing much occurred to 
interest them. 

By noon they were nearing another town, 
a Mexican settlement. More lazy dogs were 
seen lying under any shelter that afforded shade 
from the blistering sun. Jack wondered what 
these dogs lived on. They looked well fed, for 
Mexican dogs, that never get fat. Seeing 
strings of something red hanging on fences and 
from nails driven into the houses, he wondered 
if it was meat. If so, where did they get it? If 
only his master would stop long enough, he 
would have liked to sample some of this dry¬ 
ing beef. But Mr. Wheeler was getting very 
tired, having all the driving to do, and was 
anxious to get to his journey’s end. He would 
welcome the sight of the green pepper trees he 
had heard so much about. He was planning 
on stopping for a long rest at the first tourist 
camp they came to, and so he did as little stop¬ 
ping on the way as possible. 

At last our travelers reached the land of sun¬ 
shine and flowers. They were tired and travel- 


169 


JACK THE TRAVELER 

stained, but glad to be at their journey’s end. 
Their first night at the camp was a new experi¬ 
ence. It seemed like a neighborhood meeting 
of some sort, all were so friendly and willing to 
tell of their experiences. Almost every one Mr. 
Wheeler met had either been through the town 
of Woodville, Iowa, or knew some one from 
there, or some one who had passed through 
there, so he felt quite at home among them. 

Many had brought their dogs along, but 
Jack, after his experience with the strange dog 
during their trip, was more cautious about mak¬ 
ing advances. He had learned that the best 
policy was “to live and let live,” and so he got 
along very well with these dogs. 

After getting rested and learning where was 
the best place for them to locate, man and dog 
moved into a pleasant suburb of one of the 
larger towns, taking rooms with a friendly 
widow, who was fond of dogs but cared very 
little for cats, which was agreeable to Jack. 
Now, he would get plenty of good things to eat 
and lots of attention. Although Jack was 


170 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


strictly a man’s dog, the arrangement suited 
him very well indeed. 

One of the first things his master had to do 
was to buy a license for Jack. The dog must 
wear a collar with a number on the back, or 
some day the dog catcher would get him again. 
Jack was not very proud of his new collar, but, 
since collars were being worn, he must conform 
and get used to being a city dog. 

Jack and the landlady, whose name was Mrs. 
Weir, became quite good friends, though he 
refused to be trained to any new habits. His 
old ones were good enough for him. 

Mr. Wheeler, having good prospects of going 
into business, concluded to return to Woodville, 
sell his home, and locate permanently in Cali¬ 
fornia. Therefore he made preparations for the 
return trip and was soon ready to start. Jack, 
of course, was disappointed at not being in¬ 
cluded in the arrangement. He was left with 
Mrs. Weir, who was to give him every needed 
attention. He was tied up till Mr. Wheeler 
was well on his way, and did some lusty howling. 


171 


JACK THE TRAVELER 

which he kept up until the neighbors protested, 
and he was given his liberty. 

No sooner was he loose than he took up the 
trail in pursuit of his beloved master. How¬ 
ever, as Mr. Wheeler had several days’ start, it 
was impossible, even if he had made no stops, for 
Jack to overtake him. Jack did stop many 
times. He got very tired and hungry, having 
to depend on his own efforts for food. Most of 
his nights were spent in prowling around, hunt¬ 
ing for a possible loosely covered garbage can, 
to get a meal. When he was out in the open 
spaces, he would catch any wild game he could. 
This all caused delays, so that, by the time he 
reached his old home town, his master was well 
on his way back. 

Jack was very glad to see all the Higgins 
family, even the cat, and never once during his 
stay did he chase her up the tree, nor in any way 
annoy her. He had seen much of the world 
since last they met, and travel had broadened 
and made him more considerate of others, as a 
well mannered dog should be. 


172 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


He was not satisfied—the place wasn’t the 
same—and he missed his master. So in a few 
weeks he was missing. Then, some months 
later, Mrs. Higgins received a letter from Mr. 
Wheeler saying that Jack had returned to Cali¬ 
fornia. Though very thin in body, he seemed 
none the worse for his adventures. 

All the dogs thought this was a very fine story, 
and begged the Judge to tell them some more. 
So, at the next session, he told them a couple of 
brief narratives, one about a puppy and young 
turkey, and another about a blind man’s dog. 


TOM AND DANIEL 

“Many of you dogs who have never lived on 
a ranch or a farm, may not know that a dog 
and a tom turkey can be just as unfriendly as a 
dog and a cat,” said the Judge, as he thought of 
a story which illustrated this point. 

“There seems to be a sort of jealousy between 
them, which manifests itself at a very early age, 
and develops into bitter hatred as they grow 
older. This was the case with Tom and the 
collie I am telling you of. 

“The puppy and the turkey came into the 
world at about the same time, and the little 
lady who owned them divided her attention 
between them. Young turkeys are delicate little 
creatures and require the greatest care to get 
them started. The puppy was usually at the 
heels of his mistress when she fed the turkeys, 
but, instead of pretending to help, as he did with 
the little chickens, he would bark and snap at 
them, frightening them. 

“In the flock there was one young Tom who 
173 


174 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


early showed a disposition to defend himself, 
and his puppyship got many a peck on the nose. 
Thus began the trouble which led to war, and 
many a battle royal was fought between them, 
but there was never any bloodshed. 

“Their maneuvering took place around the 
woodpile back of the house. The turkey would 
be strutting in all the glory of his brilliant 
plmnage and war paint, arrogant and ready to 
battle any intruder. Along would come Daniel. 
With a war whoop of a gobble, Tom would start 
after the dog, and round and round the wood- 
pile they would go, with Daniel just a few steps 
ahead of his pursuer, until, tired out, he would 
hop on to the woodpile and bark insultingly at 
his enemy. The turkey would puff up his 
feathers, drop his wings, spread out his tail, and 
look as if he were bursting with rage. 

“When he could stand it no longer, Tom 
would fly at Daniel, who knew the tactics of 
the bird, and would dodge to one side, so that 
his majesty would land on the other side. This 
was just what Daniel had in mind when he 



















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176 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


mounted the fort; and now it was his chance to 
be the pursuer instead of the pursued. Again 
around and around they would go, until both 
were almost exhausted. 

“The lady decided to sell the young gobbler, 
and he was taken several miles to a new home, 
and Daniel was left to his possessions. 

“One day, several months after Tom’s de¬ 
parture, the lady had occasion to go to the 
place where the gobbler was sold. She took the 
dog with her and left him in the car while she 
did her errand. 

“Returning to the car, she found Daniel 
gone. Then she heard a familiar bark, answered 
by a warlike gobble, and she saw that a battle 
was on between the two warriors, as of old. 
Instead of the woodpile, a small building was 
their fortress this time. Not only a dog never 
forgets, but a turkey gobbler seems to be neither 
a forgiver nor a forgetter. 

“That is all of that story,” the Judge told his 
audience, “and next time I am going to tell you 
about a blind man’s dog.” 


THE BLIND MAN’S DOG 

At his post on the corner, not far from the 
park entrance, was another little dog, whose 
occupation would not permit of his attending 
these gatherings, if he had been invited, which 
he was not. 

As the park dogs went by, either led by their 
attendants or chasing one another, as some were 
never free to do, this dog, from his place by the 
side of his master, would look in wonder at them. 
Where were they going, and what would they 
do when they arrived? How strange they all 
looked! He was anxious to know if he resembled 
any of them. He looked over as much of his 
body as he could see without turning a back¬ 
ward somersault. 

He had four legs, as they had, and his coat, 
which was white where it was not black, and 
black where it was not white, was smooth and 
sleek. But his tail—there was the difference. 
None of them had his kind of a tail. Some of 
theirs were bushy, others were short and stiff. 

177 


178 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


He wondered how they could ever express their 
feelings with such tails. One little pom had her 
tail curled up over her back like a doughnut. 
No, his tail evidently was not in the prevailing 
fashion, as none of the park dogs were wearing 
his kind. Not beautiful, but how useful was 
this straight, tapering tail of his! How easily 
he could express his every mood with it! 

If he were happy, how fast he could wag that 
willing little tail. Should any one be harsh or 
unkind to him, down would go that same little 
indicator. So, if his tail were not in the popular 
style for the season, it answered his purposes, as 
a gauge for his feelings, which was more im¬ 
portant. 

His ears were small and stuck up on the top 
of his little head like sentinels, sensitive, alert, 
always pricked up to hear every sound that 
came through the air. Then those piercing 
black eyes—they were his chief asset. There 
was special use for them, and it was important 
that they have sharp vision, as he must be “eyes 
for the blind.” 


THE BLIND MAN’S DOG 


179 


His beloved master looked to him for protec¬ 
tion, as he moved about from one place to 
another; and the dog had to pilot him to his 
place of business, where his firm sold papers. 
The firm consisted of himself, Tony, his partner, 
and the dog. Job, so named on account of his 
characteristic patience. 

Man and dog were inseparable. They had 
lived together ever since Job was small enough 
to go into the blind man’s pocket. At that 
time. Peg, Job’s mother, was the pilot, and she 
had trained her son for the work when she 
should grow too old and feeble to do it. 

Every evening they would start out from the 
small cottage, where they lived with the blind 
man’s dear old mother. Job would lead on 
cautiously to the corner. Here they would stop, 
waiting for the signal to cross. Then Job would 
lead carefully to the middle of the street, watch¬ 
ing the lights, and over to the high curb on the 
other side. This he would mount, turn around 
and pull on the leash, so his master would know 
that the other side of the street was reached. 



Job Was “Eyes for the Blind” 























THE BLIND MAN’S DOG 181 

when he could measure the height with his cane, 
as he must step up. On the dog would lead, 
through the crowd to the soap box on the corner, 
where his master would open up his business for 
the night. 

Tony would be there already with his supply 
of papers. Each of the partners had his own 
kind to sell. Soon the blind man would call, 
“Morning Times—all the latest morning news!” 
although it was really early evening. This 
call would be heard along the street with Tony’s 
clear soprano cutting the air with “Extray— 
Extray—Evening Herald—Evening News—read 
the latest, all about the game!” Meanwhile 
Job, the personification of patience, would take 
his position near his master, to watch for any 
stray pennies that might drop from the hands 
of his master when a purchase was made 

Tony kept an eye on the blind man’s business 
to see that no one took advantage of him. This 
did not often happen, however, for those won¬ 
derfully sensitive nerves in the blind man’s fingers 
had become very acute, and the sense of touch 


182 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


was keen to the value of the coin that was given 
into his hands. He was not easily fooled. Sel¬ 
dom was Tony called on for anything except to 
get more change. 

The blind man was a youngish looking man, 
not unpleasing to look at. He was clean, of 
fair skin, and had all the marks of having been 
injured while helping to make his country a safe 
place to live in, which was indeed the fact. 

In Tony and Job he had two faithful allies, 
the former having no claim to such a relation¬ 
ship, other than a fellow feeling of helplessness 
that Tony was experiencing when they first met, 
which had been entirely overcome through this 
partnership. It had helped Tony to forget 
himself in helping one more unfortunate than 
himself. 

Tony didn’t belong to any one in particular. 
Now, since he had adopted Job and his blind 
master, he felt he had something to live for, and 
he ceased to feel the need of belonging. He told 
the blind man when he first met him that his 
father was dead, and his mother had married a 


THE BLIND MAN’S DOG 183 

man with a houseful of children. Tony had 
been told to get out, and to make his own way. 

Small and under-nourished, the lad went forth, 
his first stop being the corner where the blind 
man was being harassed by a gang of newsboys, 
who were trying to drown his feeble voice, and 
loudly hawking their papers. The confusion 
and noise were great. Tony came upon the 
scene just in time to help his present-day friend 
out, by going to his side and beginning to sing. 

It was no classical song that he sang, but it 
had its effect. As “Yes, we have no bananas 
to-day,” rang out sweet and clear amid the 
hubbub, everyone passing took notice of the 
situation; and Tony could sing! 

Among those whose attention was attracted 
was the owner of the building in front of whose 
premises this all occurred. Driving off the 
hawkers, so as to give the blind man a chance, 
he permitted Tony to help him, and in this way 
the partnership was formed 

Tony slept at police headquarters that night. 
The next day at school arrangements were made 


184 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


for him to live at a boys’ refuge home, with the 
privilege of selling papers in the evening with the 
blind man and Job as partners. Now that 
Tony was not always hungry, his voice was 
growing stronger. Calling ‘ ‘Extray’ ’ had helped 
to develop his vocal cords. 

At school he could be depended upon to lead 
the choruses. His clear, sweet notes, as they 
sang “Star Spangled Banner,” could be heard 
above the rest of the singing. One day the choir 
master from one of the churches came to hear 
them, with the idea of finding some material for 
a boys’ vested choir for his fashionable church. 

After hearing the children sing, he asked that 
Tony be allowed to sing alone. This the little 
Italian boy was proud to do, and he sang so 
sweetly that the choir master engaged him, and 
asked him to meet with the choir for practice on 
Saturday afternoon. 

This was the beginning of better things for 
little Tony. The boys’ choir was to make its 
first appearance on Easter morning, and Tony 
was to be the soloist. 


THE BLIND MAN’S DOG 185 

The blind man and Job had heard about it 
several times, for Tony was full of the subject, 
so full that he bubbled over. He would start 
out with “Evening News,” and trail off up into 
high C, ending in “All love excelling,” before he 
came down to earth again. 

His partner, too, was fond of music. His 
beloved violin was his only solace. The sad 
appealing notes that he was able to produce on 
that old instrument went straight to one’s heart. 
Then there was Job. Maybe he didn’t love 
music, but he would stand before his master, 
listening intently, ears pricked to sharpest aspect, 
body tense, and tail oscillating with measured 
beat to the rhythm, and when the tension grew 
too strong, a dismal howl would relieve his pent- 
up feelings. 

The practicing had been going on for several 
Saturday afternoons. The next Sunday was 
Easter. The blind man was not in the habit 
of going to church, although his dear old mother 
was a regular attendant, but there was an in¬ 
ducement to go this Easter morning that he 


186 


PETER MAKES GOOD 


had never felt before. Tony was to sing in the 
choir. He would go just for that. 

The church was beautifully decorated for the 
occasion. The choir boys in their vestments 
marched to their places, singing a stately pro¬ 
cessional. Proud mothers filled the pews, each 
looking with adoring eyes at her own beloved 
boy. Tony had no one to care. All were 
strangers to him, so he thought, as he looked 
over the throng. Then away to one side, in a 
pew alone, he saw something that made him 
happy, for there were his partners. Job and his 
master. 

Job paid little or no attention to anything 
that was being done or said. The choir had 
sung one song. Other things had been done, 
but nothing that a dog cared about. Then the 
organ played the prelude, and a voice, full of 
sweetness and charm, started out with, “Love 
Divine, all love excelling.” This aroused Job’s 
interest. He sat up and took notice; his 
body stiffened, his ears twitched. When every¬ 
one was enraptured with the little Italian’s music. 


THE BLIND MAN’S DOG 


187 


in the pause after the solo, Job’s over-wrought 
feelings overcame him. One pathetic wail, ton¬ 
ing off into a dismal howl, broke the sacred 
silence. 

The Judge, satisfied with this conclusion of the 
exercises, dismissed the dogs with the feeling that 
the lessons they had learned from this experi¬ 
ence would be beneficial and lasting—that the 
motto he had given them, “To live and let live,” 
would influence all their lives. Bidding them a 
kind good-by, he adjourned the court. 



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